The Fop and the Detective
by TruffleWings
Summary: A light Klema fic. There were ten people. One had an idea. Two thought it worth. The fourth swept up the fifth, and the sixth persuaded the seventh. Eight and Nine were their targets, and only the tenth stands against the other seven. Or so he thought.
1. Security Detail

To anyone reading this: Please note that the real story only starts at around chapter 4 or 5. Because the first three chapters are just really aimless.

A/N This was originally intended to be a oneshot, but after some deliberation, I altered it a bit and decided to make this a proper story. With a storyline and everything. Cool, right? … This chapter is pretty short compared to my usual works—don't worry, the rest will be longer. But first, let me warn you: I am too used to angst; this attempt at lighthearted humor… well, it's… not funny. There, I said it. (goes into a corner and bawls) Right. This fic has Klema. Duh. Okay. Now, on with the story.

EDITED as of June 18 2010 for different formatting, paragraphing, and minor revisions in general as well as a small addition.

**Chapter One: Security Detail**

Shattering music filled the corridor, amplified a thousand times by the speakers strewn across the premises. There was an epigrammatic riff from the main guitar (or at least as epigrammatic as a guitar could ever contrive to sound), soon taken over by the lead singer and cheers drifted through the hallway as the male sang the chorus to the beats of the drums, the low strums of the bass guitar…

It made her sick.

It wasn't just the horrible music—it was the very_ voice_ of the singer that annoyed her to no end. Somehow, instinctively, an unpleasant and thoroughly irritated feeling would permeate her being when the instruments were replaced by a human voice. And this was because, as the lead singer, it would be _him_ that was singing it. The most insufferable, ridiculous, unprofessional, cocky, arrogant, rude, infuriating, glimmerous fop in the history of glimmerous fops.

She tore the Snackoos apart with venom, stuffing five or six into her mouth every three seconds. Stupid security detail on his stupid rock concert. Then, as a new wave of applause overcame the passageway, she knew that they had finally finished the first part of their concert. But that was worse—that meant _he'd_ be coming backstage and it also meant that his infamous fan girls would once again try to force and/or sneak their way in. Great, just great.

With a bag of Snackoos at the ready, Detective Ema Skye strode down the corridor to the entrance that the fan girls so enjoyed taking, which happened to be furthest from where the rock band disembarked from the stage.

Amazingly, Gavin didn't seem to notice her in the far end—perhaps because the band members were surrounding him, all excitedly talking (apparently, they had really 'rocked' out there)—and parted with the band, heading straight for the dressing room. _Probably to get his hair done again_, Ema thought sourly. _Although, mercifully, I managed to miss an encounter with the fop._

To her surprise, Trucy and Apollo appeared at the other end of the corridor, and after a brief conversation that included some squealing from Trucy, disappeared into the Gavinners' dressing room.

Ema turned her attention back to the backdoor. The fans wouldn't go directly by this way—no, it would be through the cluttered, dark mess that was a little while away from this door. _And_, she thought, sighing, _it's my job to keep them out. How the heck am I supposed to do that?_ Well, it was possible that they would stay in their seats before the second part of the concert—the intermissions weren't particularly lengthy, and they might wait for the end of the concert to swarm. It was at that moment that a squeal of triumph crushed her growing hope.

The groups of fans were disposed of in a manner not befitting of this text.

"How rough, fräulein. Perhaps you should have disposed of them in a more… seemly fashion?" Ema swore. Only one person she knew could effectively communicate a smirk through speech and her mood dropped considerably.

MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH. "Maybe—MUNCH—and maybe—MUNCH—not." She forced herself to turn around and look at her boss. Disappearing round the corner were Apollo, Trucy and Lamiroir. It didn't seem as though the attorney and his assistant noticed her—they were far to busy bickering.

_Just like siblings_, Ema suddenly thought. _Huh. I guess they've become really close. Who knew?_ The stream of thoughts that passed through her mind were a futile attempt at distracting herself from the man in front of her; how could she possibly miss that ridiculous "G" necklace that dangled from his neck? Right. In. Front. Of. Her. Face.

"It is considered good etiquette to reply to a statement, fräulein. Or at least acknowledge it."

"MUNCH—Huh?—MUNCH—Did you say—MUNCH—something?" Ema chewed viciously on her snacks. It's also considered good etiquette to—_do you have any concept of personal space at all?_ Klavier Gavin leaned in even further, the clunky chain very nearly swiping her nose. Ema refused to step back even an inch.

"Why yes, I did. I was wondering if you would care to give me one of those snacks you seem to adore."

Famous last words.

Or they would be, if he weren't her boss, and if he weren't so adept at dodging her projectiles. "Careful, detective. I could get hurt, ja?" He neatly caught the flying Snackoo and examined it carefully. "I must thank you for the Snackoo, however."

Ema widened her eyes in shock and outrage. "You… you fop!" she said dangerously. "Give that back!"

"You did give it to me…"

"_I did not!_" Ema fumed. "Now, Gavin! Or I swear…"

Gavin appeared to be distracted as he suddenly cocked his head to one side. "I apologize, fräulein. I must leave you now—the stage beckons, and the crowd calls for more." And with that, he flicked the Snackoo back to Ema and departed with a casual wave of his hand.

At least she got the Snackoo back. Catching it expertly, she popped it into her mouth and crunched. The detective tried to push down the antipathy and exasperation that rose in her, but even in her boss' absence, the lingering aftereffects of his goading… lingered.

And Lana wondered how her personality did a flip on its head. _Well, for one thing I failed the forensics exam. Alone, _maybe_ that would have been just okay, but then I come here expecting Mr Edgeworth. And then I'm informed that he's in Europe. So who's my boss? Why, none other than Klavier Gavin. Apart from the fact that he's a glimmerous fop, he's also the one who disbarred Mr Wright!_ Ema's blood boiled at the thought. _Nothing ever goes right. Lana sends her spoilt sister all the way to Europe for a first-class education. And then she flunks the test with flying colors and gets her dream job_, Ema thought sarcastically.

The woman shook her head, trying to dislodge her self-pity and forced it all down with a firm swallow. She listened calmly to the music that flowed from the walls… it was a good song. W-Well except for the melody, of course! It had been Gavin who came up with the tune, so… _Wait. Did he come up with the words or the tune? _Well, whichever he came up with was the bad part, she decided. Shaking her head, Ema leaned against the wall to appreciate the comparatively soft notes that touched her ears…

Another intermission. Ema knew she should have kept her eyes peeled during Lamiroir's section in case anything happened, but she had closed her eyes to listen to the song. It wasn't like anything else would be stolen, she was sure.

As Gavin strode off the stage to admiring whistles, Ema moved into the shadows, hoping he would miss her. He seemed to see her in the dark corner, but continued to entertain Apollo and Trucy, glancing back at her as he entered the dressing room.

Once he was out of sight, she stepped back out of the darkened corner to stand guard, and did indeed stave off a small crowd of fans that tried to sneak their way in. _Same old, same old. Can't they give me a break, for once? There _is_ an autograph session after all. Scientifically speaking, it amounts to the same thing: a face-to-face encounter with that glimmerous fop and a signature on a little piece of paper, minus the grumpy detective on _security detail_. Hooray. _

Trucy and Gavin exited the dressing room just as she shooed away, what, twenty-two more fans? They had depleted the rest of her Snackoo packet, so she withdrew another pack from her handy supply that she kept in her knapsack. It seemed, Ema thought as she watched Trucy trundle off into the audience, that Apollo wouldn't be watching the third part of the concert. Good choice, she had to admit.

"Can you believe it?" Gavin muttered under his breath as he approached. "It was priceless! It was amazing! And look what happened…"

Uh oh. Angry German rock star alert. Maybe in his anger he wouldn't spot her…?

She wasn't sure what to expect in an angry Gavin, having never seen him so aggravated, or even agitated at all. And yet it seemed as though his anger was being held back, like there was some comforting fact that kept it from overflowing. Ema would later learn that his precious guitar had been burnt to a crisp and the silver lining was that the audience had mistook this accident for a well thought out stunt.

"So how about that Snackoo?" a certain blonde prosecutor asked. She jerked up at the sudden noise, watching him carefully. He seemed to have controlled his annoyance though she could still see he was irked.

"Ugh. Go away, Gavin," she said, wondering if his reactions would be any different or if he could conceal his rage till the end. She ripped open her new pack of Snackoos.

"Hm? What this, fräulein? More snacks?" His tone was light, watching as Ema took a handful and chewed on them with gusto. "Ah, I see. I should have known, of course…" Gavin eyed the deceivingly small pouch by her side. With a quick motion akin to a viper's strike from the grass, he shot out an arm and swiftly unbuttoned her bag, snatching a packet of Snackoos into the air.

"Hey!" Ema cried indignantly, spraying crumbs into the air. "Give that back!" She gave him a death-glare that, instead of making him drop dead on his feet like she had intended, sent him into uncontrollable laughter. "What the heck? What's wrong with you?" She reached out for the Snackoos agitatedly, but he raised it high above his head. "C'mon, put it down!"

The forensics fanatic jumped up and down in an attempt to rescue those precious Snackoos, hoping that the technicians would call him to the stage soon and he would have to relinquish the bag of snacks. His blue eyes twinkling with mischief, a smirk on his tanned face, Klavier Gavin was, scientifically speaking, a very, very tall fop. Dammit.

"I'm not here to play games with you, Gavin. And this is going way too far for a joke!" the detective yelled angrily, trying to sweep her boss off-balance and, as such, retrieve the Snackoos from the floor if necessary. By hook or by crook, those Snackoos were _hers_! As they rightfully should be.

Making another desperate lunge for her hopeless addiction, Ema managed to grab hold of the end of the packet. "Yes!" she hissed in victory. _Oh please, please don't rip, dear Snackoo bag. _It didn't, but having been thrown even more off-balance by Ema's pounce on the pack, Gavin tumbled down, bringing Ema with him.

With one hand triumphantly clutching her prize, Ema found herself in rather awkward situation. On top of her boss in a position she'd rather not be discovered in, with her free hand resting heavily on his chest from the impact—accident or not, Ema exuded embarrassment in every possible way. She looked up from his "G" chain and into a pair of surprised, deep azure eyes. In a not-very-pleasant way, they morphed from shock to a cheeky glint.

Oh no. Oh, _please_ no. Oh _God, _no.

Eye to eye, Ema's cobalt irises were inadvertently sucked into Gavin's icy blue ones that sparkled dangerously with mischief. His lips were curling up into a smile—no, the woman told herself. It was _definitely_ a smirk—and there was no doubt that his sinisterly wayward expression _could not_ bode well.

There was a frozen, horrific, crazed moment in time.

With a smirk still on his face, Gavin cocked his head to one side and said, "As much as I would like to stay in this rather pleasant position—and," he added. "As much as I appreciated your staring, I am afraid I have to depart for the concert. You will be waiting for me, ja?"

Ema's mouth slammed open in pure shock and outrage. She quickly shut it in case something flew in. "Y-you fop—w-wha—give me the Sna—Y-you _glimmerous fop!_" she finally managed, and scrambled off him. The tanned man seemed pleased, and carefully picked himself up. He gave her a self-satisfied grin and left for the stage.

Ema scowled, a light tinge of pink still on her cheeks (which was an improvement from her previously flaming visage), and stuffed the retrieved packet back into her pouch as she withdrew a Snackoo from her already half-opened pack.

Trademark munching ensued. She blushed again as she struggled to forget that… that _thing_, that incident, but even as she did so, her heart beat unsteadily. Well, she figured, who wouldn't be nervous after such an awkward moment? She'd have to be some kind of freak to not think about it.

_Get a hold of yourself, Ema Skye. This reaction is perfectly normal. No use over-thinking it. _It was just as well that music broke out onstage, because essentially, the blaring rock did prevent her from thinking. About anything at all, because it was impossible with the loud… did they call it music?

As she spotted Apollo emerging from the dressing room and wandering along the corridor, she decided that she would do well with another distracti—_No, no, I didn't just think that, because I have nothing to distract myself from!_ Trying as best as she could not to think, she strode to Apollo and struck up a conversation.

A/N Pity that Ema ended up eating Snackoos the whole time she talked with Polly… I guess she really mulled over that incident with Klavier. Terrible end to a chapter, but there it is. I didn't show much of Klavier's angry side in this—that'll come in the next chapter, I think. He wasn't as angry as he should have been after his guitar caught on fire, but I think I can get away with saying that was because he talked to Ema _after _Trucy and Apollo told him the audience thought he'd set fire to his guitar on purpose. Again, I know this chapter was really short (my sincere apologies); I promise, the rest will be lengthier. This chapter was inspired by the multiple fics of Ema's security detail. Yes, an awkward situation similar to this appeared in most of them. Overused, maybe. Don't forget to review!


	2. Enter the German Prosecutor

A/N And here is the second chapter of **The Fop and the Detective**. At one point, it sort of alternates between Ema's and Klavier's perspective, but this is written in third-person, so strictly speaking, there isn't really a perspective to begin with. Right…? I've been busy for the past week… cosplaying. As Ema Skye, actually. But that's another story (not that I'd be telling it to you guys), and I'm just mentioning it with regards to this update. Would you consider this late? Early? Regular? Bleh. I just realized how hard it is to keep regular updates, my usual work being oneshots, but I'll keep trying. Anyway, my humour muscle is out of sync with the rest of the world, or otherwise _way_ underused in the realm of fanfiction, so bear with it for now, alright? And I just realized I don't put disclaimers on my stories—whoops! Well, I'm not going to go back and edit them right now, so if I forget any more, just look at my profile.

Disclaimer: 'Capcom fails to sue one **TruffleWings **on grounds that a disclaimer has been put up' End Quoooottttte! No, no, too long. What about something more succinct? Like thi—(Brushel shoved out of room. Forcibly.)

EDITED as of June 19 2010 for formatting and minimum minor revisions.

**Chapter Two: Enter the German Prosecutor**

A murder! Who would _dare_ commit a _murder_ in the midst of a _Gavinners_ concert? _Everyone_, except Herr Forehead perhaps, knew the Gavinners were made up of figures linked with the law! And they _had_ to go and do it in such an _impossible_, _ludicrous_ manner!

This day, of all days, was the day that was least prudent to cross Klavier Gavin. You can really trod on someone's toes by committing murder.

And then there was that concert. His guitar… burned! Never mind that the audience thought that it was part of the show. That acoustic guitar was _amazing_. The loss of such an exquisite item should have been considered a crime. (And, Klavier realized, it _was_ a crime. Arson.) The beautiful, clear notes that it produced were unlike any other, the strings were smooth and easy and it projected wonderfully pure, refined sounds that echoed with clarity and ease. All gone now, in a rush of flame.

Not only that, but Daryan _had_ to go and _ruin_ the third part of the concert with his _mediocre_ playing! Right at the climax of the song, no less! And he _denied_ it. He had the _cheek_ to _deny_ it. A brief round with the mixing board would make him eat his words with dressing and relish, no doubt, and it did. Herr Forehead and the fräulein magician sure showed Daryan up.

His anger rose to a new level as he recalled yet another unpleasant fact. His keys. Were. Missing. Still. Missing. Had. Been. Missing. Missing. For. The. Whole. Day. Because of this unfortunate incident, he had been forced to _take a cab_ to his own concert. Oh, the humiliation! Yes, the key to his hog was on that precious set of keys. Klavier even had to _break open_ his own guitar case. Yes, the key to his guitar case was on that precious set of keys. Heck, his key ring held all his keys!

With the thought of keys jingling around in his mind, he remembered yet another horrible happening. His keys had been found. In other circumstances, this would be at least a single piece of good news.

But not this time.

Klavier's keys had been found clutched tightly in the hands of the late Romein LeTouse. The victim. Almost as if… as if he had been trying to give the investigators a clue as to who his murderer was—by grabbing the said perpetrator's belongings. How clichéd… Well, Klavier had a watertight alibi, so he had not been made a suspect in any case.

The prosecutor was most definitely taking _this_ murder case.

You have to feel sorry for the killer.

But since he usually left the legwork to the detectives, especially since the grumpy fräulein detective would be too annoyed to investigate if he chanced upon the scene, Klavier decided to avoid Lamiroir's dressing room for the time being and deigned to linger on stage.

There was a banging noise, and a startled rock star very nearly jumped out of his skin when a man materialized in front of him.

A flurry of canary yellow, sprinkled with colourful flowers by the bundles. Long, greying hair was tamed and straight under a silk top hat. With the air of a professional performer, a pink staff was twirled expertly with a rush of wind. There was no doubt that somewhere in the world, a band as flamboyant as the man was playing a proud fanfare that matched the man's showiness.

Valant Gramarye.

Klavier felt his fingers twitch. Hiring the magician had brought him mixed feelings. On one hand, yes, he was the best in the business and absolutely_ had_ to be hired for the disappearing act. But on the other hand… his appearance had drudged back memories from Klavier's very first trial, and to the prosecutor, it was an ill wind. Somehow, it seemed like an omen. He had always known it would come back to haunt him…

"Ah, purple prince of prosecuting powers! Greetings, from the great Valant Gramarye!"

Not even the fräulein detective could deny that Valant's arrogance surpassed Klavier's own. (Actually, he thought, perhaps the detective would.) "What may you be doing here? Surely you should be being interviewed right now."

"But no!" The magician looked him squarely in the eye and pointed his pink sceptre at Klavier. "For I am but a spectre, a pair of wandering eyes that merely wish to examine the operations of the miraculous happenings that occurred merely a few hours prior to this very moment!"

Translation: I'm avoiding the police and just checking my equipment.

You needed practice to speak Valanese. As Klavier pondered on whether to press an interview upon the last original Gramarye, the magician seemed to realize that he was speaking to the very height of command of the investigation team and that he was in a position vulnerable to unwanted questions and such.

With this realization, there naturally was a trademark bang, and an undignified Valant hurrying to the door.

_Somehow_, Klavier thought,_ he must be strangely unable to disappear—rather, his ability lies in only the sudden appearances that perhaps rely on the element of surprise._

There seemed nothing else to do; perhaps he should return home…

He lingered in the Gavinners dressing room for a few moments, then really did head onto the exit of Sunshine Coliseum.

But then a harassed-looking detective burst into the corridor, shouting instructions into her headset and shooting glares at the Blue Badger doll atop a black case. Klavier stopped dead in his tracks as a Snackoo was plonked promptly onto his personage. Detective Ema Skye headed towards him with a stride and a MUNCH so threatening that even Klavier took a step back as Ema advanced upon him.

"Stop right there, fop!"

She was obeyed. Instantaneously.

Like a poor schoolboy summoned to the headmaster's office, Klavier was stunned for just a moment, wondering what he could possibly have done.

"Where the heck is Apollo Justice?"

Quickly, the prosecutor regained his wits, and answered, "I have not a clue. Why?"

"LeTouse! LeTouse is gone!"

"Yes. He is dead."

"Not that, you glimmerous fop! His body… It's disappeared!"

"What? How could this be?" It was impossible! As disbelief settled in comfortably with tea and biscuits, fury rose within him; the killer made yet another stupidly audacious move—mocking him! Of all the ludicrous…

"Don't just stand there! Hunt around! Put yourself to good use, for once!" the detective commanded as she threw another Snackoo at him. "And if you find that Wright kid, be sure to bring him to me so he gets a proper Snackoo-ing!"

"What has Herr Forehead done?"

"I asked him! I asked him to watch the body for me while I left and _he leaves_!"

That, however, was not the most pressing issue here. The prosecutor fled to Lamiroir's dressing room to see if they could find any clues at all pertaining to the mystery.

"Ah ha!" Klavier heard Ema exclaim from the corridor. "The criminal returns to the scene of the crime!"

No doubt she had spotted two gelled spikes and a blue hat. By the time the duo had received the terrible wrath of Ema Skye, they went in to see Klavier and received some rage overspill with a guest appearance by Daryan.

Now, the anger had mostly abated and what was left was edginess and general uncertainty. The case reeked of loops, twists and turns that would throw it off its tracks and turn it onto its head. Because of this, Klavier somehow gained the distinct impression that Apollo would be taking the case.

Herr Forehead and Trucy departed in a hurry, eager to both find the body and to escape the moody Ema.

That left Ema and Klavier alone in the room, and neither of them felt it in themselves to leave—Ema, because she was still upset and wanted to continue investigating while the others searched, and Klavier because he had a feeling that with so many hands at work, the body was bound to be found. After all, the entrances were sealed so there really was no need to worry…

"Fräulein… relax."

Klavier could have sworn that a dozen, razor-sharp daggers were shot his way right at the moment that Ema glared at him. "Relax!" She gave a snort. "The almighty Klavier Gavin wants me to relax! Of course I'm bound to acquiesce to his perfectly reasonable wishes!"

The rock star was surprise; in this sort of situation, he would expect not sarcasm, but an outright fury. "There is no need to worry, ja? After all, t—Oh, you are too kind, fräulein detective. Here you are gifting me with yet another one of your precious snacks!"

Ema's mouth slammed open in outrage. Klavier noted, with amusement, that whenever something so blasphemous as him nicking a Snackoo or catching one of her projectiles and planning to munch it down, her jaw would slam down onto the floor. Then, almost as if she were worried something would fly into it, she snapped her mouth shut and gave a formidable glare.

Perhaps it would leave the fan girls quivering, Apollo Justice trembling, and the investigators giving Ema Skye a berth of about, oh, I don't know, three and a half miles, but to Ema's disappointment, it merely glinted off Klavier's award-winning smile.

And then it happened.

Twice in a day.

This was not a good day for people all around.

Klavier Gavin ate the Snackoo.

For a moment, Ema's brain seemed to jam as the chocolate delight approached Gavin's mouth all too quickly; then his lips closed and a loud, _unbearable_ crunching sound was made; and finally, the bob of his Adam's apple as the Snackoo travelled down his throat.

And down it would go into his digestive system. First, through his oesophagus, pushed to his stomach by peristalsis. And once in his stomach, it would be churned by the digestive jui—

Ema realized her mouth was hanging open again, and closed it. Who knew what insects lurked in the air, after all. "Klavier Gavin." Her tone was steely, as hard and as cold as ice.

Klavier blinked, surprised. The fräulein detective usually took the hotheaded, fiery approach. "Yes?"

"You have taken a Snackoo."

"Correction: You have given me a Snackoo and I have graciously accepted it."

"_You ate my Snackoo._"

"Correct," Klavier admitted. "Although I do think that these snacks are rather overrated."

Ema was at a loss for words to properly convey her utmost disbelief, and whilst conniving to express her anger, she merely said, once again, "_You. Ate. My. Snackoo._"

"Ah, your eloquence astounds me, fräulein detective."

How could he? That ridiculous German rock star _eating her Snackoo_. It was the very blackest of all blasphemy! And as she stood there, frozen, she realized that Gavin had approached her and reached out for the packet in her hand.

Wait, what?

Was he really ruffling around in her bag of Snackoos? Did he really have the gall to keep such a snide smirk on his face as he drew out a handful? Was he really serious when he brought the snacks to his mouth?

"Hold it!"

The fop, thankfully, stopped. It may have been the fire in her eyes, or the indescribable warning in her tone—

"Such intensity in your gaze! I did not realize that I commanded such an attractive presence to you, mein liebe."

—or maybe just the opportunity to tease her again.

KA-TOOOOONNNNNKKKKKK!

Plink, plink, plink…

A shower of chocolate rained upon the gleeful Klavier Gavin and it was nearly impossible to dodge, let alone catch every one of the Snackoos. He caught the edge of the maelstrom, and the remaining snacks fell upon the carpeted floor, some plopping onto the edge of the table and fruit basket.

"You arrogant glimmerous foppish fake prosecutor rock star! Put those Snackoos down right now!"

An easy smile spread across Gavin's face. Outside, investigators hurriedly fled from the corridor. "Oh, you mean _these_ snacks? Unfortunately, mein liebe, I cannot do that."

"_Put them down._" Ema spoke almost carefully, with rage seeping into her voice, intense hatred directed at the antagonist. She felt as though she were negotiating with a criminal with an ever-so-precious hostage. "And stop speaking German, unless you care to translate. Actually, no. Just stop speaking German, period."

"Ach, you do seem to be a little irked, fräulein."

Why did he _have_ to steal her snacks every time she met him? Ema chose to attempt some calculated prosing. "Aren't you a little unoriginal? I mean, if you really want to annoy me, shouldn't you do something a little more creative than nicking my Snackoos—" Here, she drew out another pack from her satchel to show she could always simply open another packet. "—or teasing me like some 12 year old?" The detective was slightly worried where this would lead to, because if he chose to listen to her, Gavin might try something even worse, if that were humanly possible.

The prosecutor appeared to consider this for a moment, and then a wicked grin flitted across his face. "A most interesting notion, fräulein. I will have to consider it most carefully. And while I deliberate this, I will settle on unoriginality and eat these Snackoos in the meantime."

Just then, the door was slammed open and a head popped into the room. "Prosecutor Gavin! Detective Skye! They… the body's been found!"

The duo looked up sharply. "Where?" both of them said. Ema glared at Gavin.

"On stage! Come quick!"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Do you not think it odd, fräulein?"

"Of course it's odd. LeTouse's corpse found on the raised stage, along with that guitar and Machi Tobaye!"

"Indeed…" Klavier mused. "And Machi has been arrested as the prime suspect."

"He can't be the murderer. How could a boy that small overwhelm LeTouse? Or carry his body _and_ a guitar up to the tower?"

"Yet it is his small stature that warrants his arrest. He may not have been working alone; then, it would make sense."

The detective glared at him. "No, it doesn't and you know it doesn't. Why would he move the body?"

"The song, fräulein. Mysterious as it is…" Klavier began to sing. "_Guitar, guitar… Up together to the sky._"

"Even so, he would have no need to remain on the platform," Ema said hastily, if only to shut him up.

"I am the prosecution. That is my job—to prosecute, to find the truth. And though it may seem mysterious now, there is no doubt that the truth will reveal itself in the end. So—no need to worry, fräulein detective; though I am glad for your concern of my case." She had not been, Klavier knew, worrying about his case but sharing her doubts with him about Machi Tobaye. "Still, I believe a more thorough investigation had been needed before arresting him as suspect—if not for one thing. The closed room murder."

Ema couldn't contest that.

"But it is not only that. Because Mr LeTouse had come from Borginia, a rather precarious situation has developed… and it is apparently necessary to wrap this case up quickly. So do not glare at me so—I have done my best to convince them otherwise. But the air vent and Machi's size… it is impossible to gainsay that. And for that point, I have to concede to the logic." As he spoke, he slowly chewed, and a familiar crunching sound could be heard from his mouth.

"Yeah…" The very same sound was also being generated from Ema's jaws.

MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH… MUNCH MUNCH… MUNCH… MUNCH

The twin crunches clashed with each other, but one soon faded out. "What?" Ema demanded.

"Was?"

"Was what?"

" 'Was' is German for 'what', fräulein detective."

"Well, what d'you mean, what?"

"Exactly." Klavier paused. Munching ensued. "But really, what do you mean by 'what'?"

Ema took a while to think the conversation through. "I mean, what's with the munching?"

"You notice I do not ask you that same question every day."

"More to the point: did you nick my Snackoos?"

"Nein."

Ema considered this. If he had stolen her obsession, he would have either admitted it or said something along the lines of 'No, you gave them to me'. "Second question: what are you eating?"

Gavin merely opened his mouth to expose a disgusting sight of brown and golden mush.

_Ugh, did he really just do that? _In Ema's experience, the only time she was exposed to that kind of answer was when interviewing difficult children around the age of seven. _Now, what does that say about Gavin? Nothing I already don't know, that's for sure. _

"Well, mein liebe, what does it look like?"

The detective tried to stop her mind from making any connections regarding the likeness of the mishmash other than Snackoos, lest she besmirch her impossible addiction. "Why do you have Snackoos in your mouth?"

"Well, you see—"

The door opened and one Daryan Crescend entered the room. "Hey dude, and er… who's the gal?" he asked, turning to look at Ema.

"Detective Ema Skye," she said.

"Oh yeah, you were at the concert. Security detail." Ema could've sworn Crescend had somehow worked a metaphorical eye roll into his tone. "Anyway, Gavin, this here's the preliminary report on that giant. There's so little info about him that it's freaky."

"Thank you, Daryan."

"Yeah, whatever. I'm gonna go down and see what else I can find, but no promises, man. Doubt there's anything else on him. See ya." With a wave, he departed with a gait that seemed uncannily like a predator stalking his prey. Daryan Crescend had always reminded her of some shark, swimming in the dark waters of the ocean, lurking and just waiting to pounce.

Seeing the guitarist got Ema thinking about the case once again, all thoughts of Gavin's strange new snacking banished at once. "I wonder who LeTouse really is…"

"Indeed. There are many mysteries to this murder. For example, as you said before, why risk moving the body? To follow the lyrics of the song, yes, but why?"

"Maybe the killer's some kind of madman?" Ema said, not really paying attention to the improbability of her words.

"Like something out of a fairytale… How dramatic this is."

"Who was the body found by anyway?"

"Apollo Justice and his assistant, I believe," Gavin said, turning his eyes thoughtfully to the ceiling.

"Huh, maybe I'll go talk to them." Speaking of that, Ema realized that she'd better get going and investigate some more. "See you later, Mr Gavin."

"Indeed." The prosecutor paused for a moment as Ema laid a hand on the doorknob. "Oh yes, fräulein?"

"What is it?" Ema asked as she stepped out of his office.

"It should be 'whom'."

"What?"

"You said 'who was the body found by'. It should be 'whom was the body found by'."

Ema closed the door.

_There's something seriously wrong with that German prosecutor correcting my English on so many levels._

A/N Somehow, I like the idea of Klavier correcting Ema's English. Or anyone's English, for that matter, because though it isn't his first language, Klavier is so obviously well versed and very eloquent in our language, which is pretty cool. Valant's speech was fun to write—I'll probably do more of that in the future. I never liked Daryan; even if he wasn't the killer, I just didn't like his personality or his style of speaking… You know what really makes my day? Reviews. Just thought you ought to know, you know… hint hint, nudge nudge.


	3. Motorcycles, Germans, and Singing

A/N Presenting chapter three. I probably would have had this up more quickly, if not for the bit about the trial. I think I'm getting better at this 'humour' stuff. So read on!

Disclaimer: I don't own Ace Attorney, nor do I make any profit from this. Sigh… 

**Chapter Three: In which there are motorcycles, Gemans, and singing.**

Ema Skye was beginning to regret telling Gavin to be more original in irritating her. She had known from the very start that it was probably not a good idea, and she'd admittedly only said it for a comeback, in the hopes of a respite from the Snackoo-snatching, but now, not only was it clear that her rash proposal a bad idea, it was also a dreadfully abysmal one that could and would give her an ample motive to _murder_ the fop.

Now, standing at the front of the precinct, wide-eyed at the _thing_ in front of her and the detestable figure that lounged at its side, she could only utter unintelligible curses and vehement refusals. Indeed, Gavin had sought another way to antagonize her, and successfully. Ema still couldn't decide if this was better or worse than the stealing of her Snackoos.

"Come on, fräulein! Hop on!" Gavin said cheerily.

Worse, she decided, because he probably wouldn't stop nicking her snacks anyway.

"I really do not know why I have not tried this before," he continued, almost to himself, though as blithely as before.

If he had attempted this earlier, coupled with his other annoying habits, she might just have ended up being defended by Apollo. It was anyone's guess for which crime. Or for how many counts. "No, Gavin. Over my dead body."

"Must you really be so reluctant? It is most practical and more convenient for me to whip you over to the crime scene."

"I'm taking the patrol car," Ema said, but as she uttered those words, the car zoomed past her. _That's what I get for dilly-dallying. Thanks, Gavin._

The prosecutor smirked as he watched the vehicle speed round the corner. "It seems as though your intended means of transportation has fled under your fiery gaze, fräulein detective. Will you not allow me to be your knight in shining armour?"

"Stuff it, Gavin," the woman quipped, wondering if she could catch a bus, and simultaneously trying to ignore the weeping of her wallet at the very notion.

"It is simplicity in itself. Just sit on the seat behind me," he persisted. "Would you not want to attend to the crime scene before the other officers mess it up?"

Ema's thoughts jumped to Meekins and the other blundering fools that somehow made it into law enforcement, and wept along with her wallet. Oh dear.

Seeing her hesitation, Gavin prompted her along. "And would you not want to get there before the forensics team arrive?"

The carrot was carefully hung in front of the donkey, juicy and tempting. Much too appealing and much too enticing for its own good. "Fine!" she snapped, finally conceding and all too aware that this might potentially spell disaster. "Just this once! And no tricks!"

His eyes turned wide and innocent. " 'Tricks'? I honestly have no idea what you are so _delicately_ insinuating."

"Whatever." Ema wasn't in the mood for entertaining him (not that she ever really _was_ in the mood). "Move aside, you fop."

He obligingly sidled over, moving to the forefront of the seat as Ema got on behind him, glaring holes into the back of his head.

And that was how Ema Skye ended up on Klavier Gavin's motorcycle.

Or, as he liked to call it, his 'hog'. (Stupid name, really. But befitting of a glimmerous fop like Gavin.)

Or, as Ema liked to call it, the 'deathmachine'. (Blunt and to the point. Ema liked it.)

"First and foremost, though, take this."

Ema received a black helmet with two of his trademark 'G's emblazoned in red on the sides. "There's no way I'm wearing this!" she said, glaring at the offending letters, knowing full well that she would have to put it on.

"Suit yourself." Gavin shrugged, and strapped on an identical helmet of his own, revving the motorcycle. The roaring sounded like the rapaciously voracious Snackoo monster that had stalked her dreams only the night before. _I did _not_ just think that._

"Ready, fräulein?" he asked with a smirk, and without waiting for an answer, he leaned forward, clearly preparing to set off at full speed and to perhaps give her a warning of his intention.

_Why did I agree to this again? _Hastily, Ema fumbled with her helmet and jammed it onto her head. To her surprise, Gavin didn't speed off immediately.

"Ah, I think you are forgetting the best part of this, mein liebe."

"Please stop speaking German," Ema said carefully, not at all pleased at his laughing tone. "What did I forget?"

Gavin reached for her two hands in response and placed it on his waist firmly. "You need to put your hands like _this_, or you may just fall off. And we would not want that, would we?"

Ema would have leapt off the seat at this point and onto the sidewalk, later washing her hands a hundred and fifty-seven times over with two pints of soap and eight litres of water, and then going to the lab to disinfect her palms with a special radioactive light that was _technically_ not suitable for humans, finally finishing off with a healthy slap to the smug fop's face, boss or not. And then repeat the process all over again.

That was what she _would have _done, had the prosecutor not abruptly accelerated and forced her to keep a tight grip on his waist.

Was this even legal? The speed Gavin was going at was a thousand, a million times faster than she would have expected. Instinctively, to combat the sickly feeling in her stomach that a stone was pressing up against the walls of her intestines, she seized hold of Klavier's waist even more unyieldingly, forcing herself to lean her helmet-clad head against his back. She couldn't even scream for the terror.

Ema could feel the abominable fop shaking with laughter, and she tried not to imagine the stupid smirk that she was sure had spread across his face like a smog of poison diffusing across a pest-ridden field.

She could not see the scenery blurring into a sea of greys and greens, nor the way the road seemed to flee under the terrorization of the tires, but she _could_ hear the wind blowing past them, made sharp and dangerous by the speed they were rushing at. She _could_ feel her lab coat rippling behind her, in danger of being eaten up by the wheels of the deathmachine. She_ could_ feel the sheer velocity as they ripped up the road, pressing her against the seat yet simultaneously making her grip even harder onto Gavin.

But most of all, Ema could feel embarrassment lurking under her fear, threatening to rise up and bowl her over. Heat rose in her face, even under the helmet as her boss made yet another leap in speed with all too much alacrity. She was practically pinning herself on his back.

Were they beating every red light in town? Sifting and zipping in and out of the cars that should have been on the streets, honking and angry?

And then they stopped.

It was so sudden that Ema felt herself being thrust forward into Klavier's back with the hard helmet still on her head like a crown. The impact made Gavin lurch forward, losing his balance for a moment, and then attempting to regain it in a most undignified manner—flapping his arms up and down and leaning from side to side precariously. The deathmachine wobbled uncertainly under the shifting of weights.

There were a few moments of collaborated, highly scientific approaches to balancing Gavin's bike. Finally, he simply put his long legs down on the ground. Ema swore that he had intentionally rigged those moments of craziness.

Ema shoved her helmet off of her head and shook out her dishevelled hair, pushing it to Gavin. He took it and placed it next to his own, hooking it onto his motorcycle. Dizziness overcame her as she did so, tottering away from the bike, stumbling onto the ground as her head span and gyrated like an overenthusiastic top. Bewildered, she grabbed hold of the nearest support—a tree perhaps?

No prizes for guessing what she actually seized a hold of.

It was a tree.

"Fräulein detective?" someone asked her, sounding alarmed. _Gavin_, she thought fuzzily. _Wait, who's that again? _"Are you alright?"

Argh. Why did she _have_ to have an exceptional phobia of high-speeding deathmachines driven by crazed, immature fops?

"Oh yes, of course," she said, her words slurring together but nevertheless dripping with sarcasm.

Stupid motion sickness. Ema slowly sank to the ground with her head down, closing her eyes and steadying her dizziness. She felt as though her brain had been liquefied, then put inside a tin can and whirled by a blender on the highest setting along with some bananas.

Bit by bit, the detective finally realized that she wasn't standing on her head, and the world wasn't spiralling to some cataclysmic doomsday out of its orbit around the sun, so she got up.

She met a pair of raised eyebrows as she did so, and quickly snapped, "Whatever. I'm fine now. Motion sickness. You drive too fast."

A hesitant smile curved Klavier's lips. "The speed has its merits, I assure you." He gestured around the entrance of the Coliseum. There was not a soul within the barricade of police barriers, except for the drummer of the Gavinners as far as Ema could see.

Disbelieving, Ema was about to rush inside, expecting the other officers and detectives to be at Lamiroir's dressing room, when a patrol car pulled up beside the deathmachine. Out came the detectives she had been going to hitch a ride with. Not only had she managed to arrived on time, she had come _earlier_ than them? That was as impossible as… as… Klav—Apollo becoming the mascot for Snackoos!

"Excellent, is it not?" Gavin gave a Class-A glimmerous fop expression. "Well then, auf wiedersehen, fräulein detective."

Maybe riding his motorcycle wasn't so bad, Ema decided. He didn't seem to want to eat her Snackoos anyhow, so perhaps her spur-of-the-moment idea had paid off.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Klavier added, with an extra flash of pearly white teeth. He bent down to pick up her satchel that had fallen when she had been attempting to shake off her motion sickness. "Here."

Ema took the pouch gratefully, watching as he got onto his hog once again and departed. When he wasn't being a pest, she realized, he was actually a pretty decent guy.

Then she opened her bag to draw out a pack of Snackoos.

It was empty of any snacks. Had she forgotten to pack them?

It was a mark of her newfound respect for Klavier that she did not immediately suspect him.

However, someone kindly left a note of explanation at the very bottom at the bag. It read:

_Fräulein detective,_

_It seems as though I have done you a great favour by aiding you in your attempts to preserve the crime scene from blundering officers as well as practising your scientific techniques without hassle from the forensics team. My hog was not that bad, ja? Therefore, I would be a fool not to kindly and graciously accept my transportation fee that you have so thoughtfully packed into this satchel._

_Yours truly,_

_Klavier Gavin_

* * *

"The night of the murder, I was on security backstage, at Prosecutor Gavin's request," Ema pouted, glaring at the antagonist.

"Hold it! The night of the murder was the night of the concert, yes?"

"That's right." She adopted a professional attitude and professional tone as she answered Apollo's question. Irritation was reserved for Gavin.

"What was a detective doing on security detail, might I ask? …If it was only a concert?" he questioned, and his last statement sounded as though he were implying that she was there for another reason.

Ema raised her eyebrows at that, and then dismissed it, concurring with the Wright kid. "My thoughts exactly." She paused, discontent. "But, orders are orders. Even when they come from rock gods."

"Prosecutor Gavin…?"

"Yes, allow me to explain. I smelled something that day, you might say. The stench… of conspiracy," he said dramatically, and gave an equally dramatic pause. "That day, at the concert hall."

"Conspiracy…?"

_Oh please. Don't get him started._

"Well, isn't it obvious!" Gavin said impatiently, slamming the wall with his fist to give emphasis. "My keys! That whole morning, no, the whole day was ruined! And it's all because someone stole my keys!"

Ema rather thought it was more embarrassing to steal keys on a heart-shaped ring than to lose them.

"I couldn't ride my hog to the show, I couldn't open my guitar case…" he ranted.

Ema really couldn't be bothered to listen, but then the defence attorney spoke and she pricked up her ears. "Isn't it possible he simply misplaced them?"

"Misplaced them! Misplaced items don't just wander into a murder victim's hand on their own!"

_That's kinda a bad idea to bring up in court…_

"What's this!" The judge shot up from his chair, eyes popping wide open. "Prosecutor Gavin, if your keys were in the victim's hand…" He paused as if to consider the implications. "That makes you a prime suspect!" he concluded with a stern expression on his face.

Ema enjoyed the uproar it caused. Everyone's favourite rock star wasn't so innocent after all, was he? She only wished Klavier would squirm in shock or discomfort, but he merely raised his hands to run down an air guitar solo. _Fop. _She looked away. _Oh, spare me. Please._

It was then that a deep, heavenly-sounding voice descended upon the courtroom, rich and unwavering. "Love, slow-acting and new. Atroquinine… is waiting for you…"

The detective's head snapped up, keeping herself carefully ignorant of the fact that she had just thought the fop's voice was 'heavenly'.

"…The killing happened in the middle of my concert."

_So that guy was just trying to show off. Nothing to do with the case. No one was impressed, Gavin. Give it up._

"I was… like a sailor, adrift on a sea of sound. Anyway, I didn't want anything stolen," he said, snapping his fingers to emphasize his apparent musicality. "So I put the detective with the most time on their hands on the task." He gave her a smirk.

"I see. I can accept that." That was the judge, of course.

"Well I can't!" Ema butted in, furious. "What do you mean 'time on their hands'!"

How dare he! Embarrassing her in front of court! Sure, she _appeared_ to be munching Snackoos most of the time, or reading science magazines in the office, but those were _breaks_. He always dropped by at all the wrong moments—wait, no. He visited so often, after all, to infuriate her, so when she was working, _he_ was the one who distracted her!

"Please, the testimony."

Grudgingly, Ema continued. "Only people involved with the concert in some way were allowed backstage." She paused in case Apollo felt the need to exercise his… what did he call it… Chords of Iron…? "At the beginning of the third set… I heard shots."

"Hold it! I believe we were having a chat when we heard the shots."

"You were the one chatting. I was eating Snackoos," she said truthfully, munching on a few to illustrate her point.

"Ah! Hey! No snacking in court!" the judge exclaimed.

He was ignored.

"And you're sure the shots came from Lamiroir's room?" Gavin asked.

Ema ignored him too.

"Yes, absolutely," the red-clad attorney supplied.

"Hey, I'm the one being cross-examined here!" she interjected, if only to wipe the look on Gavin's countenance off. "Here, this'll keep you quiet!"

KA-TONK. Snackoo'd. Well, almost. She had thrown it in an arc so Apollo could catch it.

"Ah, thanks." He gave a cheesy grin, and his expression was such that Ema thought that he had, in reality, been dying to try the Snackoos that she was also carrying on her person. "So… MUNCH… how about it… MUNCH… Ema?"

"We were right… MUNCH… there. Hard to be mistaken about that… MUNCH." She didn't know what to think when she saw the prosecutor's amusement.

"Please, either talk, or eat. Not both at the same time!" The judge's eyes widened as if he found the very notion incomprehensible.

Ema was tempted to choose eating as she caught a look from Gavin, but decided against it. "... gulp… Right, so after that… me and Mr Lawyer there opened the dressing room door. I went into the dressing room, filled with blaring rock music, and found the body." She recalled, quite unpleasantly, the scene that had greeted her, only made worse by the infernal noise that crackled over the speakers.

"I examined the scene and determined that only the defendant could have done it." She stopped, knowing what was coming next.

"Hold it! How could you know something like that!"

"As I said, it was clear from the circumstances." She proceeded to explain the logic behind the escape route, and as such, the air vent.

Apollo's reaction: priceless.

Her mood was ruined was Gavin intervened and tied it all up. "That air vent was the only way out of the room! The defendant's fingerprints were found on the grill!" A pointing finger punctuated the next statement. "Well, Herr Forehead? What fairy tale does this suggest to you?"

The prosecution was as merciless as the defence was speechless. Apollo looked so lost and desperate that his spikes were even drooping, as if the gel that Ema _knew_ he used had been worn thin by sweat. Eventually, however, he managed to scramble up a last-minute witness: Lamiroir.

Interesting… As Ema entered the prosecutor's lobby, she really wondered if Apollo could give Gavin a good trashing.

_Ah well, maybe it's too much to hope for._

* * *

"I understand why you would want to protect Machi. Yet remember, you are the Siren of the Ballad…" He paused for dramatic effect, then leaned forward with an easy smile. "…And lies do not become such a creature."

"What does the prosecution mean!"

"Apollo! What's he talking about!"

Whispers and exclamations claimed the court, sweeping around like a wind through the trees. Klavier could barely restrained himself from laughing out loud at the reaction from both the court and Herr Forehead, who looked decidedly exasperated.

Klavier resumed his routine, his plan from the very start, Justice looking more and more helpless as he continued. Finally, he finished off the defence's witness. "Herr Judge!"

"Yes?"

"The prosecutor requests that the witness… be excused. Please."

And the judge conceded.

"…Danke. Now where were we?" Klavier looked to the witness stand as the bailiff prepared to escort Lamiroir away, pondering… "Ah yes, I would like to hear from the Fräulein Detective again."

"Objection! Wait!" The rock star turned to the defence bench expectantly. "Let me hear Lamiroir's testimony one last time…"

He was denied, and Lamiroir gave a final word of apology as she left, confusion clear in her eyes. It had not seemed as though she was lying—yet, it was obvious that she was.

"At last, back to the real trial." It was imperative that this be finished quickly. "Ready, Herr Forehead?" Of course, he needed the defence's cooperation. To stop pursuing the testimony of the Siren of the Ballad, find another avenue of approach. Should they find the truth as swiftly as possible, it could not be done by a barrage of dead-ends. Unfortunately, Justice didn't seem to want to give it up.

"Fräulein Detective, how far had we gotten until we were so rudely interrupted?"

"Don't ask me!"

Ah, more feisty than usual. Klavier looked down, chuckling as his shoulders shook gently. "I dislike saying the same thing twice." He glanced up again to survey her reaction. "And I never repeat a song for an encore."

"…If you would, Ms Skye."

"…Hmph." She looked to the side, as though she were so furious with him a glare could not sufficiently convey her anger and she couldn't bear to spare him a glance. "I believe I was saying that the only way Mr LeTouse's killer could have escaped… was through that air vent on the ceiling."

"Ah, yes, there was only one door in the room. And a witness, you, was standing in front of it."

"The air vent isn't very big, see." Ema put on her rose-tinted glasses. "Kind of limits the people who could possibly get through."

"I certainly would have a difficult time," the judge said airily.

"You sure would. Not that you would have been there in the first place, though. Remember, the whole backstage area was off-limits to people not involved with the concert. The only one who meets the conditions for our killer…" She paused, perhaps in distaste at her next words (for Klavier knew of her doubt of Machi as the killer) or to attempt to recall the pronunciation of Tobaye's name.. "…is the defendant.

Excellent. Succinct and to the point. "…A virtuoso performance!" he said truthfully. "I couldn't have put it better myself."

"Hm. She does state a clear case," the judge agreed. "Though, reading the report, something caught my eye."

_So Herr Judge_ does_ actually read case files. _"Oh? What's that?"

"The circumstances of the defendant's arrest."

"The circumstances…?" Justice kneaded his forehead with his index finger as though trying to recall the mind-boggling scene that had greeted him at the top of the raised stage.

"…A perceptive observation, Herr Judge."

"Ah, er, thanks! It was kind of an accident, really. But you work in this job long enough…" the judge said proudly. "…you get a nose for things. Eh he he."

…_Right…_ "Very good, Fräulein Detective." Klavier paid no heed to the robed man. "Perhaps you could tie it all together for us. Why was the body moved? And how does that lead us to the killer?"

"I believe Machi stole the body because of some lyrics," Ema started, only to be interrupted by a loud and raucous voice.

"Hold it! Who would steal a body just to match some lyrics!"

"I didn't believe it myself," the detective said. "But it can't just be a coincidence."

"It is as the Fräulein Detective says. Let us begin with the first verse." Klavier was about to open his mouth to start singing it out, but a wickedly amusing idea suddenly flashed across his mind. "If you would, Fräulein Detective."

Her expression… was priceless. Eyes wide, now fully exposing the otherwise dull and dark green that lurked in its depths, fiercely glaring at him nonetheless. Her fingers twitched, as though itching to unseal her packet of snacks and hit him with one of her tasty projectiles. (Or not so tasty, as Klavier later found out.)

"What? You want me to sing it?"

"You are the witness, ja?" He smirked playfully, enjoying the scene before him. "Or did you want me to sing?"

Ema looked as though she wanted to bone him in the head, simultaneously reddening at the very notion or, Klavier amended, in anger.

"I warn you, my fee as a vocalist is not trivial."

He could almost see the ten-figure amounts dance before her eyes. (Twelve figures, actually, but that was irrelevant.)

"Fine, fine!" she hastily said, her voice now raspy and dry. "Er, ahem! Let's look at the first part of the lyrics, shall we?"

Klavier was, admittedly, curious as to the tone she would produce. There was a short stretch of silence as Ema wriggled uncomfortably amidst the eyes that were all focused on her. " 'When you stole away the keys my heart held on to so tight.'"

There was a slight waver in her voice, but not the sound of a vibrato gone wrong; a clear mark of nervousness. Nevertheless, the prosecutor was impressed by her lucid tone and ringing clarity, smooth and not at all airy. _I didn't know mein Fräulein Detective had such a nice singing voice._

"Indeed," he said, realizing the expectant eyes that were now turned on him. "My favourite heart-shaped key ring was stolen that morning." With some amusement, he noted the reaction to 'my favourite heart-shaped key ring'.

"Next, we go to the right page of the lyrics sheet." A slight ruffle as both her and the defence attorney moved the paper. "Where we find…" Klavier leaned forward to hear her sing once more. " 'Burning in on my heart. Fire. Burn my love away. All away.'"

There was less tension apparent in her voice, though she still stiffened at Klavier's intent eyes.

"As we know," she continued. "Prosecutor Gavin's guitar burst into flame. 'Like a bullet of love. Fire. Take my life away. All away.'" Ah, how he now regretted writing those lyrics. "Mr LeTouse's life was taken by a bullet," she explained.

"Bravo, Fräulein Detective. Your singing… it's not bad," he complimented. "Now, for the finale! 'Guitar, Guitar… Up together to the sky.' As it says in the lyrics, Mr LeTouse…" He raised his eyebrows slightly the queer look Ema was giving him. "…was found with a guitar, high in the 'sky' over the stage. No series of coincidences could be so well-conceived!" Klavier concluded.

"He's right," Ema reluctantly concurred. "…Scientifically speaking."

A/N And that is the awkward ending to the chapter. By the way, I'll be overseas next week for about ten days. So don't expect any updates… Sorry. Though when I return, I expect to see lots of mail in my inbox. Cough cough. Oh yeah, I edited chapters one and two, so you may read them again if you want.


	4. And So It Begins

A/N Er… sorry… that was an unforgivably long wait… Partially because of the trip I took, partially because school has begun, partially because my parents are back, and partially because of… well, reviews. I'm not blaming you guys because the last chapter wasn't great so to speak (meaning the trial part) but I need your help! Feedback—constructive criticism. I've had to figure out how to improve the stuff myself! Which is what I'm supposed to do, but suggestions would be nice. So after thinking it through, I've decided it's mainly because of it's slow-pace? Sorry, it's my first time venturing into the romance genre and I'm not that well-versed yet at writing it. So, I hope this chapter satisfies!

**Chapter Four: And So It Begins**

It was strange.

The door to her office had been barely opened by anyone other than her since the beginning of work. She had a lot of extra Snackoo packets lying around. Her blood pressure was dropping.

To paraphrase, Ema Skye was not being pestered by a certain man. A certain prosecutor. A certain rock star prosecutor. A certain rock star prosecutor glimmerous fop.

And there is only _one_ rock star prosecutor glimmerous fop in the building, or indeed in the whole state. (Or the whole continent. Scratch that—I mean the world.)

Klavier Gavin.

Not to say that Ema Skye was complaining. She could now stop buying so many packs of snacks, because previously she would waste approximately one packet a day on the fop, and that was on a good day. And it wasn't like Gavin was unbearably upset over the Daryan case—not broken down or depressed; after all, he was still taking cases… which was why she was here pouring over a case file.

_Wait, why am I even worrying about the fop? I should be focusing on this autopsy report._

So she began to actually read the documents that lay splayed on her desk, resisting the urge to just push it over to her 'out' pile—before realizing that she _had_ finished the report and had spent the past five minutes in a absent-minded reverie. And though Ema probably wasn't going to get a prize for diligence any time soon, this wasn't a usual thing, nor was it a good thing. And if she were slacking off, it would be spent in personal time with her Snackoos.

Ema got up, sighing, and with the manila folder tucked under her arm, she trudged to the Prosecutor Offices. The 12th floor… not to see Mr Edgeworth, though. With each level she ascended, the usual feeling of annoyance was replaced by a much more potent, unfamiliar one. Apprehension.

And for what was perhaps the first time, she hesitated. Outside _his_ office door. Should she barge in as usual? Pretend that nothing was wrong? Or should she actually… knock?

_What's with all this drama? It's just Gavin._ She paused for a moment, then raised her fist to knock.

"Come in."

Ema eased the door open slowly as her breath caught and tripped over her quickening heart. That tone… even his voice… unfamiliarity coursed through her—cold and clipped, not a sign of the irritating character that she had come to know. But as she entered, there was a note of regret hanging in the air—perhaps he was regretting his frosty manner.

"Gavin," she said by way of greeting, unable to defer from the norm despite her state of mind.

Klavier looked surprised. "Fräulein detective? It was you who knocked?"

Ema couldn't decide if that was a genuine question or a jibe. "Who else?" she snapped.

"It was rather surprising." The prosecutor leaned forward. "Well, to what may I owe this pleasant visit? Missing me?"

It was all wrong.

The smile, the smirk, the glimmer.

It was all empty.

It was all meaningless.

Ema found herself backing up; just a step, before she caught herself. A worry worked its way up to her eyebrows before she could restrain it.

"Just the case files, Gavin," she managed.

"Are you sure there's nothing more?" Another smile as he took the documents.

_Stop that. _"Ha ha, very funny. As usual, I find your humor riveting."

"I can hardly expect otherwise. I am a rather enchanting fellow." Another smile as he placed them on his desk.

_Stop it. _"Don't flatter yourself. Or I suppose you could spend your life in denial. Yeah, that wouldn't be too bad."

"Such harsh words! I am injured." Another smile as he placed his hand on his heart in a mock gesture.

_Just stop. _"So something actually managed to penetrate that thick skull of yours?"

"Really, fräulein, rudimentary manners should be observed. It is only befitting of such a pretty face, ja?" Another smile as he leaned back on his desk.

_Please, just stop. _"Tch! Shut it, Gavin."

"Ach! Another bullet to my heart!" Another smile as he lazily got back up.

"Stop it!"

The banter ground to an earsplitting halt.

"S-sorry?"

It was the first time Ema heard Klavier stutter or stumble over his words. Perhaps her unexpected words combined with whatever look she was wearing on her face had caused it.

Slightly mortified, the detective was determined to plough on. "Just stop it!" Whenever Klavier smiled, even at his delinquent fans, it was sincere. Even his smirks were all sincere. He was a performer; but still, everything—his love for music, his expressions, his drive for the truth—it was all true, not faked.

And now it was all wrong.

"Stop what?" Klavier asked, with an odd look on his face as his eyes scanned Ema's countenance.

"Pretending." Succinct. It summed it all up. "You walk around with a stupid smirk on your face all day—but at least it's genuine! And now here you are, just smiling _pleasantly_ at me—" Ema felt a bit sick at what 'smiling pleasantly' reminded her of; or who it reminded her of. "—and I can see it's all a mask! I can tell it's not real!"

"And is everything you do… sincere? Every expression? I can assure you that there is no human being like that. But besides that, what are you basing this on?"

The way he was looking at her, it made her think that _he_ was thinking, _You're trying to pull an Apollo, aren't you? _Yet, his expression had a single crack in it, a long line down his defense. "What am I basing it on? It's staring me right in my face!"

Klavier shrugged. "This certainly would not hold up in a court of any kind. But I can see logic will not prevail against you. In that case, why does it even matter?"

"What—"

"It is not as if you would care about this sort of thing, especially concerning me."

Ema found herself silent, and hating herself for it. It wasn't just his words—it was the tone, his biting tone that silenced her and pierced her painfully. She ground her teeth and Klavier watched her with an unfathomable expression, flickering through a thousand different emotions—coldness, worry, regret, determination…

She couldn't decide if her heart was racing or still—if she was angry or sad—if she was choking on her words or on the silence—

Then as Ema swallowed, Klavier's expression seemed to soften; his eyes cast slightly downwards, his stance a more relaxed one, the heaving of his chest slowly easing.

"Fräulein…"

But Ema had already made up her mind. It may have been cliché, in the way that the protagonist always walks away when a lifeline is thrown to her, but she stood by her decision, all too aware that it was either the best possible or worst possible move she could make.

The door closed.

Klavier stood there like a fool, listening to Ema's footsteps slowly die away.

"Scheiße."

Had he really been so transparent? All day, the prosecutor put on an act, an act so impenetrable that it almost seemed real to even himself. And no one had called him out, not even a hint of worry crossed their faces—all but the fräulein detective.

Was it a bluff? Or had she really seen something? Was he (unconsciously) simply being an overdramatic fop consumed with angst? Klavier ran through their encounter in his mind.

It probably was his tone of voice when she had first knocked—not that he'd ever dreamed it would be her at the door. He had been cold then, but quickly warmed up when he reminded himself to just act as he usually would seem.

When she'd entered… yes, there was confusion. It disappeared; just for a split second. Then the minute he opened his mouth again, it returned. Then it melted into something else, one of the rare emotions that he, as an expert of reading faces, couldn't identify.

Klavier stood very still for a moment, wondering what he should do. Then the choice suddenly was made clear, obvious even. He couldn't let her mull in her own rampant thoughts, and it was surely time to pay a visit.

* * *

Ema put her feet up on her desk, a practice she usually detested because the fop sometimes did it and if her desk were evidence in a case, it would be contaminated, harder to isolate leads of any importance.

Okay, actually thinking the reasons through made it sound stupid and unprofessional, but _still_…

She was thankful of having escaped Gavin, now being sure that it had been the right choice—if only because he hadn't even had the chance to give her any more paperwork. In any case, chances were he wouldn't come down to the precinct and drop by her cubicle. And Ema had decided that she was _not_ going to waste this free time pondering on things best left un-pondered. Cough cough, a certain person's unassailable _foppishness_.

MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH

That's right, a break was best spent snacking.

The door opened.

Ema's back was facing the entrance, so she couldn't see who it was, but whoever it was didn't knock.

All the detectives knocked. Hapless defense attorneys knocked. Police officers knocked. The Chief didn't.

It had to be the Chief of Police.

Ema didn't turn around, feeling a tingle on the back of her neck.

It _had_ to be the Chief.

She pretended to feel around in her pack of Snackoos.

It _had_ to be the Chief—it couldn't be anyone else. _La la la, I'm not listening, brain! It's the Chief!_

…_It's not the Chief._

There was no use in staring at her shoes any longer, so she scrunched up her eyes for a second, shaking her head as if dispelling the repellant feeling that radiated through her body, and spun the chair around as she lifted her legs off her desk.

Klavier Gavin stood clad in purple and black, lounging against a wall conscientiously. A languid smile spread over his face when he saw Ema's tight, hostile expression.

"Ah, mein liebe."

"No German, you fop."

"I could always translate."

The look on his face made Ema wary. Did she _really_ want to know what the fop just said? "I can understand German just fine," she lied. A stupid lie, but she couldn't think of anything else to say—and Gavin's expression was just too smug to let slide.

"Oh? Then why have you always asked me to revert to English?"

Ema hoped that Gavin would ignore her previous claim, her idiotic, unthinking assertion that she could understand German. "You shouldn't speak German… when you're in, I don't know, America!"

"Then how have you come by the language?"

"I, er, went to Europe… oh right, to pursue my studies in forensic science!" It was the truth, after all.

"Very well. Then I suppose you have no objection to me conversing in German with you?"

It was the last thing Ema wanted, but she couldn't back down now. Oh wait, she could but then the humiliation would be just too much, though she knew that it would be much worse later on. "Er, nein…?"

"Gut!" Gavin grinned cheerily.

Oh shit. Not good. _I suppose that meant 'good', right…?_

"Gavin!" A voice from down the hallway.

He glanced through the door at the person calling him. "I shall be right there." He turned back to her. Ema added 'Funny German Words Alert' to her list of red light warnings. "Auf Wiedersehen, liebling."

_Okay, I understood that… maybe I'll do okay…? _"Right, er… 'Off Vee-dur-zen'," she said, a bit too late as she tried to mimic his parting words.

A flash of pearly-whites.

Just a few days earlier, she wouldn't have participated in such a ridiculous game, but now she was more careful (and even more careful _not_ to think why she was being careful)—though admittedly, some awkwardness was lost in the banter. And he _had_ seemed more genuine—or maybe he had just gotten better.

_Damn, that's the problem. How are you supposed to tell when something's real or not? How are you supposed to know when someone's lying? Evidence? What evidence?_

Ema gritted her teeth together, jerking her head to one side sharply as she swallowed, hard, with frustration.

"Ema?"

She looked up, slowly.

A spiky-haired boy (sorry, I meant man) and an aspiring magician stood at her open doorway.

"Apollo? Trucy? What are you guys doing here?"

"Trucy just dragged me along," the attorney said with a bit of a useless shrug.

"Ema! Have you seen Mr Gavin?"

"The fop?" Ema chose to ignore Apollo's eye-roll. "Yes, unfortunately. Why does fate have to make that man, of all people, my boss? Mr _Edgeworth_ would have been nice. Very nice. Even Payne!"

"Well, he _is_ an international rock star. Maybe you should be thankful?" Apollo reluctantly intervened.

"Yeah! I bet you could sell his autograph for like, 100 bucks!" Trucy added.

MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH

"Er, Ema?"

MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH

"Hellloooo? Emaaaa?"

MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH

"Alright, alright. I guess we'll have to go straight to the point."

"Please." Ema had had enough conversation about that ridiculous glimmerous fop.

This irritated attitude _was_ her usual one, but now for different reasons. It wasn't an avoidance of his infuriating, flirtatious manner; now, it was something different, a detestable, chocking feeling that left her unsatisfied and inexplicably annoyed.

_Damn. When did he hold so much influence over me? When his attitude changes, mine does too? Why does it matter what he acts like?_

"Do you want to come for a party?" Trucy asked, thankfully interrupting her dangerous thoughts.

"…Party…?"

"Yup! To celebrate… er… the Borginian National Day!"

"We're not in Borginia."

"There'll be Snacko—"

"I'm in."

The very mention of Snackoos drove a nagging thought out of Ema's mind—_What are those guys planning?_

* * *

"Yes, fräulein?"

"Do you want to come, Mr Gavin?"

"Come? Whatever for?"

"A party!"

"When and where will it be held?"

"At the Wright Anything Agency, on the Borginian National Day."

"…"

"Sorry, Prosecutor Gavin… Trucy's been restless."

"Ema's coming!"

"Hm… I suppose I will come."

As the duo departed, a tall tanned German took out a small calendar. He looked at it for a moment, then scratched out **IMP. : 10.30** **meeting on ****Ellen**** case with Chief**.

It could wait.

"Didn't you say that meeting was one you couldn't miss?"

Klavier turned to the man beside him. "It _is_ quite important… but I could always postpone it."

"Heh heh heh… That's quite funny."

"I am not even going to ask why."

"Because you already know it." The man gave a grin. "Just a few seconds ago, weren't you impressing upon me how important the meeting was? And how I shouldn't skip it?"

"Ach! I am the one who is to cross-examine, not you."

"Both you and I know that's no defense to what I just said… but I'll let it slide. Because I already know why this party's so enthralling."

Klavier sensed that the man was planning something, just as the defense attorney and magician had been.

"So may I join you?"

A/N Shorter chapter than usual, but I wanted to get this out quick and to know your reactions. The plot is finally starting, after all. Not a deep, dark one—but after writing this, I realized how much I would rather write a more angsty/comfort fic. Maybe after I finish this fic I'll start on a serious one and use this as practice. Which means this one won't be that long—probably not past 10 chapters. This was written with less editing and with a different style, so I'm not sure how it turned out. I value constructive criticism a lot!


	5. And So It Really Begins

**Chapter Five: And So It Really Begins**

Ema was fed up—though she couldn't decide the source of this emotion. Usually it was easy; Gavin, Gavin, and Gavin all the way with his foppishness, but now she wasn't sure if she was annoyed at him, or herself.

She was torn between comforting him and kicking him away, but more than this, she _wanted_ to comfort him, but every time she tried, something else that wasn't quite so nice came out of her mouth.

"That's it. I'm_ not_ going to let this get in my way," she muttered angrily to herself, though she wasn't quite sure what 'way' referred to.

"Let what get in your way?"

It was, of course, Klavier Gavin. Ema's karma would not have allowed it to be anyone else.

"Nothing," she said, barely restraining the 'fop' that threatened to escape from her lips. She turned around—

—and in that short moment of time, he had managed to lean over her, most _definitely_ invading her personal bubble of space in the most deliberate way, his smile obvious even in the shadow that hung over his face.

_At least I didn't hit my head against the chain that he always wears._

"Wh-what is it, Mr Gavin?"

"Ah…" Klavier pulled back slightly, allowing Ema to sit a little more upright. "Nothing much."

There was a short silence that pounded painfully against Ema's ears. Klavier still leaned over her with a smile, trapping her, almost pinning her onto the swivel chair. "I… have work to do," she lied, hoping that he would pull back further, if not completely.

"Work? Of course… but, fräulein detective, you happen to work for me, and I know that you have completed all the paperwork required."

The detective was thoroughly unsettled with the conversation. Meaningless exchanges weren't unusual with Gavin, but his banter was usually more flirtatious, had a sort of purpose that it eventually led up to. (_Like the last time, when he said he would speak German with me. _That hadn't lasted long, admittedly, because Ema refused to budge whenever he did so.) This, however, was… odd. It had a strange atmosphere that Ema couldn't quite place.

Even his smile was worlds apart from the usual smirk, and it wasn't even the smile he flashed to his fans, the one that earned him the 'glimmerous' title. It was slight, subdued almost, with an ambiguity that made Ema wary.

"Why are you here? And don't give me 'no reason' for an answer."

For a moment, Klavier really looked like he was going to give 'no reason' for an answer, just to incite her, but thought better of it. "I would say 'no reason', for it is the truth… but if you really want a serviceable reason, then let us say that I simply wanted to inform you that I am going out."

"That… isn't a 'serviceable reason'. Why do you need to _inform_ me of your comings and goings?"

"In case you needed to find me at my office, ja? It would certainly save you a trip."

"Well, you've informed me," Ema said expectantly, then cursed herself. _Stupid, stupid, stupid! I just can't help myself, can I?_

Klavier hesitated for a moment, then stood up. "Then I shall bid you farewell. Auf Wiedersehen."

Ema watched him with a contemplating, confused expression as he left.

This was more than odd. It wasn't even alien. It left Ema completely and utterly reeling.

No flippant attitude. No badly concealed sadness. No witty banter that ended with a rain of Snackoos.

Just emptiness.

Just an unfathomable pit of a frustratingly inscrutable nature.

Since when did Gavin become as… ridiculously…_ pointless_ as this? Every adjective she tried to pin on him when he acted like that seemed to slide off. The closest she could get was ambiguous, and that wasn't even close.

In the distance, she thought heard the revving of a motorcycle as the German truly departed.

Where was he going?

It was a question that echoed in the minds of the fop and the detective at the exact same moment of time, barely a millisecond apart from each other.

And the prosecutor's mind was in a toss more potent than Ema's own little problem of confusion.

When Klavier had left the office, he had known where to go. His planned location hadn't been Ema's office cubicle, but his feet carried him there nonetheless, where he had acted on mindless instinct all the way. Making up silly excuses, exchanging dead banter, he had found himself uncharacteristically speechless and fumbling.

It must've been the way her eyes narrowed and stared at him, _focusing_ on him in such a way that unsettled him.

Klavier screeched to a stop as his mind registered a red light, his thought process breaking off and continuing onto a new line. Or, rather, an old one.

Where was he going?

Klavier assessed his surroundings, realizing that he was en-route to the place he had originally planned to go to. The penitentiary. More specifically, Solitary Cell 13.

Surprise, surprise.

He swallowed. What had possessed him to go there?

But as he parked on the curb a few minutes later, it became apparent that whatever ghoul haunted him was still urging him to enter the prison.

"Kristoph Gavin. I would like to see him."

"Cell number?"

"Solitary Cell 13."

The guard led him into the dank corridor, past the rows and rows of dark, unmaintained cells, finally turning the corner to his destination.

In contrast, this cell was well lit, noticeably cleaner and held a single prisoner who didn't wear the usual uniform.

The door clicked behind Klavier as he entered the cell. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have been allowed inside, but his prosecutorial influence and a few half-truths had earned him the meeting.

"Ah, hello."

Klavier slowly turned his gaze from the floor to the blue-clad man. "Mein bruder. It has been a long time."

"Too long, I do believe. What brings you here?"

This was enough to ascertain that their conversation would be undergone in English. Klavier would analyze anything that could be analyzed in the presence of his brother, because there honestly wasn't much that could be concluded in relation to the unfathomable figure. "It… was on a whim," he admitted honestly.

"Well then, since you are here, you may as well tell me about the outside world."

"You receive newspapers on your very doorstep," Klavier said shortly.

"And news of you?"

"You can find that on the paper too," the prosecutor joked.

"Front page news, actually." Kristoph handed him a recent newspaper.

Klavier scanned it. The lead guitarist of the Gavinners arrested for murder. "…Of course."

"It seems a lot has been happening since I departed."

…Since he departed. The phrase was simply Kristoph through and through. His way of twisting words, careful phrases, their meanings warped but _still _a sort of truth was ever-present.

"I suppose you could put it that way. Work, as always." The tone of Klavier's voice remained neutral, but the subtleties in his words didn't, of course, escape his brother. The confusion, the rage that he had hid so well bubbled up to the surface, prodded on by Daryan's betrayal. The performer's mask he wore clung on tenuously, his emotions rollicking like an ocean sweeping against the craggy rocks of the shore.

Kristoph tilted his head up and for a moment, Klavier thought that something flashed past his face. Something that glinted from his eyes and off his lenses. "Your insinuation does not go unnoticed."

"Hardly an insinuation, Kristoph. It is exactly as I say it. Work, as always. Putting criminals behind bars—that is my job, ja?" The rock star meant to stop there, but his mouth ran on its own, reserved control forgotten. "Lies, deceit, betrayal—inevitable, all of it. It does not matter who commits the crime. It matters that that person is punished. What justice is there in this world but the justice we deliver? What equality can we muster but the equality we must preserve? Biasness is a fatal flaw, one that condemns many innocents and releases all the guilty. Bonds? Relations? What are these? Immaterial, baseless, deluded connections, served only to heighten the vulnerability of human emotion and hinder the path of evenhandedness."

Klavier cursed himself then, knowing that he had only lowered himself in Kristoph's gaze for being unable to help himself, to restrain himself. Then he beat himself up once more—why did he care what Kristoph thought of him?

"Are you quite done? With your little monologue, I mean. Is that the real reason why you came here? I do hope you have let off enough steam. Your eloquence certainly seems to indicate so."

Curt. Polite.

Disdainful.

"Nein, bruder. It is not the reason I came here. I came hoping for answers."

"Vainly, as you know. Is it not enough that my guilt is ascertained?"

"I want... I need to know why."

"Clichéd. Too clichéd, even for you."

"Perhaps. I too know that I will receive no satisfying response."

"What, do you wish that I deny the action I partook?"

"Action? Does that word even… _fit_ into the sentence?" Klavier struggled for a word that described the… understatement. "In any case, I do not hope for such an answer. You know I would condemn it, even in ridicule."

"Then what is a suitable answer?" His tone was flat, almost bored, as if Kristoph couldn't be bothered to place a suitable emotion into his voice.

"Nothing. There is none. That is why both you and I know I will never be satisfied." _Nothing, after all, can justify killing another in what is clearly cold blood._

"Goodbye." _Another pointless conversation. Another frustrating end. Why do I even bother?_

"Goodbye, Kristoph."

Not once in that conversation had his brother spoken Klavier's name.

* * *

"Somewhere… to go to?"

"Yeah. Like, a party?"

Ema's eyes bulged from behind her pink glasses. The party—was today? She thought about skipping out, but Mr Wright would be there and maybe even Mr Edgeworth; it wouldn't be very courteous anyway. Cursing her forgetfulness, she hurriedly thanked her informant.

The tall man watched her leave.

"Hey, Klavier."

"Ace? What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you. I got lost."

"This has to be your nine hundredth and seventy second time to the precinct as well as my office. And yet… I am not surprised."

The two men started walking side by side.

"So, has my self-invite to the party been approved?"

"Ja. The young magician was simply exuberant with the idea that you would be coming."

"It's my charm," the man assured Klavier, and a chuckle was exchanged between the two of them.

"So, shall we be off?"

"Firstly, why were you down at the precinct yourself?"

"I am a prosecutor."

"Really? I didn't know that," he joked sarcastically. "But I was under the impression that you were to wait for me at the entrance to the Prosecutor Offices."

"I had a feeling you would get lost."

"C'mon, Klavier. You're the prosecutor. Don't make me pick holes in your testimony."

"Let us go now. We are going to be late."

"Now, you've just made me even more intrigued. My curiosity is burning!"

"I know. Prepare to be disappointed."

* * *

In every story, there _has_ to be a gathering. Whether it is a romance, comedy, a drama, or an action-packed story, there _has_ to be a meeting between the key characters. This meeting may culminate from a few individuals finally seeing each other, or a chance meeting at right at the beginning that sparks something, or an event at the thick of the plot that spurns on many others.

This story is no exception.

All the world's a stage. Every life is a story, even out of fiction. Drama takes on its own role. Destiny plays its own part. Coincidence is never coincidence.

Fiction… is never fiction.

One of the most important rules is irony. A key role. For example, an unfortunate 'Oh, I hope it doesn't rain' would almost certainly result in a downpour. There has to be _at least_ one instance of this happening—if not the realism and sadistic (I didn't just write sadistic) quality would be lost.

This story is about the law.

It _has_ to follow rules.

_Especially_ that one.

* * *

"Gavin has an important meeting today. I'm sure they didn't invite him."

"Trucy _can't_ be up to anything. She can't be bored already."

"I just hope she's the only one up to something. Hm… yeah, only she would scheme for such a purpose."

Three statements spoken by three people. And they enter the stage in the exact same order.

"Hello? Is anyone in?"

Ema looked around the old law office, now a talent agency (Possibly. An Anything Agency, anyway, whatever that was). The door had been unlocked, she discovered, so she made her way inside when no one answered her knocks for…oh… seven minutes and two seconds.

Ema was not a patient woman.

She swept a glance round the room once more, in search of her promised snack. But all she saw were bowls of punch and chips.

"No Snackoos," she muttered to herself.

There came a crash from behind her, and she spun around to see who had stumbled into the room most unceremoniously.

The man slowly regained his balance and closed the door quietly behind him, clutching a familiar looking bag. A plastic bag that Ema brought back to her apartment each day from the convenience store.

"I'm late, aren't I? Late to my own party."

"No one else is here yet. Odd…"

"I got these, anyway…"

Apollo presented the plastic bag to her, revealing two jumbo-sized Snackoo packets. As she suspected, of course.

"Where is everyone?" she asked as she retrieved the packs.

"They should be here—they were when I left."

"And so we are."

A man entered from the door beside Charley.

"Mr Wright!"

He was glomped.

"Can't say I wasn't expecting that." Phoenix laughed as Apollo stood rather awkwardly at one end.

A young girl bounced exuberantly into the cluttered room with a beaming face. "Ema!"

"Hi, Trucy. So, who else is coming?"

To be frank, Ema had only come in hopes of skipping out on a meeting (and therefore an encounter with Klavier) as well as the thought of meeting Mr Edgeworth and Mr Wright.

"Hm." Trucy looked up for a moment. "You'll see!"

Despite being a detective, Ema wasn't one for mysteries, especially coming from the adopted daughter of who she knew to be a devious man. "Apollo?"

"I don't know."

"You're terrible at lying," she said bluntly. "You must have _some_ idea."

The defense attorney pursed his lips. "_Some_ idea. I don't know the whole set of people."

"Edgeworth."

Ema's eyes lit up as she turned to Phoenix. "He's coming?"

"He is already here."

A new voice, deeper and more serious—though this time, there was a hint of amusement.

"You always know how to make the entrances count, don't you, Edgeworth?"

"Practice, Wright, practice."

"Mr Edgeworth!" A semi-scream identical to the one she gave to man clad in sweats.

The prosecutor was glomped.

It was almost as if the detective Ema had reverted to her childhood form—more cheery, more carefree, in the presence of her two idols.

And then the clouds came to cover the sun, and the first irony was blatantly tossed right smack in front of Ema's face.

"This is hardly a party, ja?"

Ema turned stiffly to the door, her heart clenched and shivering.

Two figures stood there. One she knew by name; the other, however…

"Hi, Mr Gavin!" Trucy bounded up to the two of them. "You too, Mr Lerano!"

Lerano…?

The three chatted for a few moments as Ema wrinkled her brow and dug her hand into the Snackoos.

"Alright, Apollo, out with it. Who else is coming?"

"No one! No one… that I know of, anyway."

"I'm afraid I invited a few other people, little Polly," Phoenix interjected.

"Little Polly…? That's a new one…" Apollo's mutter was just loud enough for Ema to hear.

"Anyone I know?" Ema asked curiously.

"I'm not sure. Maybe you've heard of one of them. Franziska von Karma?"

She didn't notice Edgeworth's sudden flinch at the name, as though an invisible whip had hounded him all the way here.

"I think you told me about her. She became a prosecutor at thirteen, right?"

"That's right. I invited her. With some trouble."

Ema was about to ask what kind of trouble when the mysterious man approached her. Lerano.

"So, you're Ema Skye."

"We _have_ met, you know."

"And more than once."

Ema paused to recall. Besides the time at her office that very day, when he'd reminded her about the party… "The… Gavinners concert…?"

"You got it."

Damn. That meant he was—

"Archer Lerano, at your service. Drummer of the Gavinners. You can call me Ace."

Ema was prejudiced against any member of the band the Klavier had formed—irrationally, because it was simply because of Gavin's presence.

Because of Gavin's presence…

She was biased against the prosecutor as well.

_Irrationally._

That little thought was swept aside, however, by an interruption.

CRACK!

Everyone except Ema and Apollo jumped. Sure, the cracking noise was suddenly, but the look of mingled amusement (albeit strained) and fear wasn't necessary… was it? For in the doorway stood a formidable-looking woman with electric blue hair and a gaudy outfit that looked like it was of the same style, or cut, or simply the same time period, as Edgeworth's own suit.

"Miles Edgeworth, Phoenix Wright, Klavier Gavin, Trucy Wright, Archer Lerano, Ema Skye, Apollo Justice! What is this foolishly foolish party of a fool's folly, held by a foolishly foolish fool who simply wishes fools around with other fools' foolishly foolhardy lives of foolishness!"

Both she and Apollo exchanged incredulous looks. Clearly, they were the only ones who hadn't met her.

Certainly she had _heard_ of Franziska von Karma's mannerisms, but hearsay and pale imitations were hardly enough to prepare her for _this_.

"It was my D-daddy's idea to invite y-you, Ms von Karma," Trucy stuttered, the light in her eyes turning from warm to ones akin to a deer struck in twin headlines of a truck.

"Phoenix Wright!"

"…Not my idea." Phoenix tried hard to maintain his composure, the image of the mastermind behind the scenes, the all-knowing mentor, but his expression gave his apprehension away.

CRACK!

The whip hit the floor. Phoenix turned his gaze ever so slightly and ever so quickly to Edgeworth.

"Miles Edgeworth!"

"Yes…?" Edgeworth flinched slightly, but his steady gaze indicated that he was either too accustomed to von Karma's antics or he was practiced at hiding his real emotion.

Before the fearsome woman could respond, Klavier stepped smoothly in. "Let us all just take a step back from the whip's range…"

"You fool! My whip has no limit!"

CRA—

Though Ema would never admit it, this was Klavier's Crowning Moment of Awesome.

Catching the whip? Take up a level in badass, people.

Yes, in Gavin's hand was a cord of leather and pride.

Franziska von Karma's eyes widened, and Edgeworth's along with it.

"You… you fool!"

She yanked the whip back as Klavier hurriedly let go, lest he receive rope burn and the wrath of the woman's death glare. Which, Ema noted, was even more potent than Edgeworth's. Mainly because of the whip she kept clenched in her fist.

There was a deadly silence, like someone holding their breath and bracing themselves before the final blow falls.

"Nick!"

Then, like a balloon whose tense surface is spread so tightly that you just _know_ it'll burst, with maybe an explosion—or, or some fireworks—or maybe a big BOOM!—or a BIG flash of light—or by the hand of the Steel Samurai of Neo Olde Tokyo, ha ha, he OWNS the Nickel Samurai any day—

"Maya! So you did manage to make it."

"Yeah, the Steel Samurai rocks. I think he burst the balloon."

"What…?"

"Hi, Mr Nick!"

"Pearls! It's good to see you again."

"So where're the hamburger delights that I was promised?"

The color flooded from Phoenix's face as he saw the Apollo had turned pale with realization—perhaps that the red-clad man forgot to purchase the said hamburgers while out buying Ema's Snackoos.

Before Maya could pick up on this, however, another person jumped onto the scene.

"EEEDDDDGGGGGEEEEYYYYYYYY! NNNIIIIIIIICCCCKKKKKKKK!"

"Larry Butz. Fool of all fools."

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Whimper…

"Everyone's here, I think."

Every player in the story, minor characters, major roles, present in a single room, a single gathering, a single meeting.

It's time to get the plot rolling.

A/N An update. I'm too lazy to write a proper Author's Note. =.=

Actually… I have something important to ask. Should I get a beta-reader? At the moment it's not really read through by anyone else other than me… before it's published, of course. Though I've never used the beta-reader function thing, could someone explain it to me? Do I ask someone to just beta-read it, or do people… offer?

Also… I kept with the tradition of meaningful/punny names. Hinthint.


	6. Plans, Plural

A/N Late. Again. I was going to drop it, but then two people convinced me not to, and I'd like to give shoutouts to them.

**xStormyx**, who threatened to cut my head off and serve it on a platter should I drop it. (Or something like that, but it amounts to the same thing.)

**kaRINtou-kun**, who offered to draw fanart for this. It was because of her that I hesitated to delete it, and therefore gave **xStormyx** time to convince me otherwise.

And last but not least, thanks to all the reviewers who have supported me through the story.

EDIT: Thanks, **Stefan-sama**, for pointing out there were no divides. I _did_ add them in, but fanfiction must have deleted them. And... the previous chapters' divides were deleted too. So I'll go change it now.

**Chapter Six: Plans, Plural  
**

Apollo simply couldn't miss the way Trucy's eyes darted between Klavier Gavin and Ema Skye, the young magician's lips curved into a slight smile that didn't completely show happiness, but indicated amusement. He knew what was going through Trucy's mind, and a small indication of what her plan would be concerning.

The thing was, that Trucy missed the bowl of Snackoos just to the left of the prosecutor.

It would have been humorous—except now that Apollo had confirmed the existence of a plan as well as the subjects concerned, he remembered how ruthless Trucy really was when executing such a plan.

And dramatic as it may sound, it was not an exaggeration.

But Apollo quickly drove the flashbacks out of his mind—now was the time for action, or, more specifically, Trucy's inaction.

"Trucy—" Apollo began.

"Shush, Polly!" Trucy said, turning to him. "I already know what you're about to say."

"But—"

"This is all for the greater good," Trucy intoned ominously.

Apollo took a moment to recover from the magician's cringe-worthy statement, and tried again. But before he could even begin to speak, a voice came from behind him.

"So, you're Wright's apprentice?"

Interrupted.

The red-clad attorney turned to see Miles Edgeworth in the flesh. " 'Apprentice'?" he echoed. "Not at all. I just happened… to run into him a few times."

"Defending, if I am not wrong?"

"Mr Edgeworth!"

It was one of the subjects of Trucy's operation, a detective that Apollo bumped into at least as many times as Klavier Gavin.

"…Ema. Your sister told me to tell you to expect her a few days from now."

"Really? When did she tell you that?"

"She was stopping by Germany, and looked me up at the von Karma mansion."

"Oh, you were staying there? But I tried calling you…"

Apollo left Ema and the prosecutor to their conversation and took the opportunity to turn to Trucy once more.

"Listen, Polly, why don't I explain it to you first?"

The red-clad attorney sighed. "Because there's nothing to explain."

But before he could begin his interrogation, Trucy, unheeding as always, began to speak and draw him away from the crowd. "What I'm trying to do is _not_ direct intervention."

_Sure. Like you haven't been cooking up plans to get the two of them together._

"What I am doing is making magic."

Oh, great. She was, quite obviously, intervening directly.

"The number of encounters between two people contributes much to the amount of feelings, you see."

"No, I don't."

She heaved a sigh at the man's ignorance. "Sure, there _are_ exceptions, family, mere co-workers, good friends, but this is _different_."

"Hm, I think I'd go with co-workers for Prosecutor Gavin and Ema. Reluctant co-workers, on Ema's part."

"It's different, Apollo! Don't you see?"

And again, the man replied, "No, I don't."

"Hate, that's the key."

Apollo, very deliberately, kept his silence.

"Hate can turn to love, very easily, because hate could be a deep mask of love!"

"Could be."

"Yup."

"No, I was quoting you. 'Could be a deep mask of love'."

"Oh, I get you. But there's a simple test to test it out."

"And what is that?"

"Increase the number of encounters! Then, there are three options. One, hate digs a deeper ditch for itself. Two, hate turns to friendship as she gets to know and maybe understand him, then to love. Three, hate is stripped away to reveal love. Two of the possibilities end at love, so it's best to try."

"I've long learnt that questioning your logic never works."

"That's because my logic is airtight."

_Let's see, what's so airtight about ignoring the thousands of other possibilities that could occur? To list one more: Four, nothing happens. The most probable option. And doesn't she know that Ema already sees Prosecutor Gavin almost every day? _

Apollo _could_ have voiced all of these points out, and a million more rebuttals, but Trucy would never have listened. But before he could think of another course of attack, she had already bounded off.

…It _was_ possible no damage would be done.

But Apollo had seen one too many subjects under Trucy's so-called plans, and he wasn't about to stand by as she took a leaf from Mr Wright's book.

But what could possibly stop her?

* * *

Archer Lerano slowly drifted from Klavier's side, becoming only a pair of eyes that watched the party intensely. The cracks of a whip, the blazes of pink, the ranting of lost girlfriends, the noise of the Steel Samurai that was playing on the television, the cries of 'Mystic Maya'—all lost, as Ace's five senses focused on two individuals in the room.

One was a close friend and a fellow band member.

The other was a woman he half-knew, from brief encounters and endless talk.

A smirk unfolded itself across his face, and for a moment, his expression matched that of Klavier's at the exact same moment.

"Fräulein Detective, Prosecutor Edgeworth, may I cut in?"

"Cut in? This isn't some kind of dance, Gavin," Ema said irritably, refusing to even spare a glance at the rock star.

"Gavin? Klavier Gavin?"

"Ja."

To Ema's chagrin, her idol actually took the fop's hand and shook it. "I've heard about you."

"And you are still a legend at the office, Herr Edgeworth."

With a smile on his face, Klavier proceeded to engage with Edgeworth in a conversation that mostly consisted of a barrage of German and amused looks at Ema's flabbergasted and suspicious face.

"Mein liebe."

It took Ema a moment to realize that Gavin was addressing her in German, and that Edgeworth had already left to sit at the couch with Maya Fey. "What does that even _mean_?" She had long dropped the pretense of understanding German.

"Maybe you should find out, liebling," Klavier said with an easy smile.

_Ah, shameless flirting,_ the hidden observer thought to himself.

"…Do I _want_ to find out?"

"Hm," he replied ambiguously.

Ema was sure the prosecutor was about to flirt once more as a wicked expression overtook his face, and his mouth opened eagerly, but then her savior came in the form of one Phoenix Wright.

"Hi, Ema, Gavin."

All at once, Klavier's expression, posture, aura changed. Ema could _just_ tell his teeth clenched together, myriad emotions flitting across his face, and his stance shifted so very slightly. Klavier, she realized, was all too practiced at hiding his emotions—but in this instance, they had managed to leak out just slightly.

_He didn't forge the evidence!_ She wished to correct him then and there.

But then, Ema knew that the prosecutor was more confused and self-denying than hostile. His brother, who had reputedly tipped him off on the forgery, had been just sent to prison for murder. The brother he had once looked up to, never questioned, sought to be likened to, had been condemned in a blaze of truth and justice. Perhaps Klavier had tried to ignore this piece of evidence, but Ema didn't know what the outcome was, and was certainly, she admitted, no judge of his newly formed views (because Ema also admitted that the rock star wouldn't shirk from the facts) or emotions.

"Herr Wright," Klavier greeted, and dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement, animosity thick in the air.

Ema let out a grin that was only half-forced to cut through the tension and said, "Hi, Mr Wright!"

What Phoenix thought of Klavier, Ema didn't know either, but she was sure his natural charity would shine over his bitterness at losing his attorney's badge (however painful it was). But the former attorney had to be careful around the prosecutor, anyway.

"Prosecutor Gavin," the dark-haired man began. "I have to inform you of something."

Klavier raised his eyebrows. "Ja?"

"You're going to be privy to some details on the upcoming Jurist System… Actually, you'll be taking part in the test trial."

"A test trial? When is it?"

"Don't worry, it's quite a while away… Just thought I should tell you."

"Has a case been decided on?"

"No, not yet."

"And an attorney?"

"…Not as of late. Not… confirmed, at least, but I think you'll know at least one of the candidates."

"And… how are you involved in this?"

A pause as Phoenix scanned the other man's face with those searching eyes.

"I'm part of the organizing committee, you could say."

And with that, he left.

Klavier stood there, staring after the man, his face uncharacteristically void of emotion. Whatever thoughts ran through his mind couldn't be discerned from his body language or the distant look in his eyes. A mask.

After a few moments, Ema grew worried, especially since the whip cracking didn't wake him from his stupor.

MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH

Well, the prosecutor _did _twitch.

KA-TONK!

No response.

"Gavin?"

Nothing.

"Fop?"

Not a twitch.

It seemed as though munching was the most effective option, but when nothing more than a slight movement was achieved (though by this time, Ema was growing suspicious as well), the detective decided that sticking to munching _wasn't_, in fact, the best option, contrary to popular opinion (meaning her Snackoo obsessed persona's opinion).

"…Klavier?"

Signs of life!

"Klavier!"

A couple of blinks, then the prosecutor broke from his reverie. "A test trial…" He frowned.

"What's wrong with the Jurist System?"

Klavier turned to her. "Nothing, it is a good thing. I am just wondering what kind of case Phoenix Wright will pick."

"…Does this mean I'll be the detective in charge of the case as well?" Ema realized her mistake too late, and wished she could take back her words.

"Why would you assume that, fräulein?"

Ah, well. Nothing to do but to forge ahead. "You know… because I _somehow_ end up being assigned to the cases you take."

"A strange phenomenon, ja?"

"Yes, it certainly can't be coincidental," Ema said suspiciously, planning at once to confront him about it.

But he turned the tables on her instead. "I did not know you paid so much attention to my work schedule, fräulein!"

It took a moment for Ema to fully grasp the insinuations, because his blinding grin (blinding with idiocy, she told herself) was a bit too much for her to handle. "Arrogance!" she spluttered, and took to stuffing her face with Snackoos.

"Ah, I see it now."

MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH

"It is not, what some call, 'stress eating'. You eat when you are embarrassed."

"I eat when I'm annoyed! And besides, who wouldn't be embarrassed in your company!" The latter sentence slipped out of her mouth with no conscious thought on her part and she regretted it instantly, ceasing the Snackoo chewing. "Sorry."

Klavier gave a mock expression of the utmost surprise. "Fräulein Detective? Apologizing? I simply_ must_ make a note of this."

The prosecutor rarely used sarcasm in this manner, and though it was nearly as biting as it could be, Ema was startled nonetheless. But, she thought, she _had_ deserved it.

"Hey, Klavier." A figure approached the two. "Hello, Ema Skye." Lerano gave her an odd look.

"…Ja?"

"I gotta go now. I'm meeting with Mark. Catch you later," he said, departing with a wave of his hand.

He jogged out of the room, and as soon as he shut the door, Ace let a smirk overtake his face once again. It was just possible, just possible for him to get away with this idea of his—with help.

Reaching the precinct with a bright yellow Porsche in tow, he immediately spotted the person he wished to see.

A figure, the tallest of the Gavinners, draped in a long black cape, looking for all the world like a vampire from a book of ancient lore. His casual elegance, poised stance, and upturned face cast him as the 'tall dark stranger'. The man slowly turned his head in Ace's direction, letting a languid smile spread across his face with ease, and beckoned to him, black spiked hair ruffling gently in the wind.

"Cut it out."

"Cut… it out? I haven't the faintest idea what you are talking about. But while we are on the subject, on what grounds did you call me here? By faith, or by flame, by wind, or by rock? I so ask of you—"

"Enough." Ace rolled his eyes, though his long, red bangs obscured them from view.

"Then cease beating around the bush, and plunge the sword by a point to your foresworn target!"

_If anyone were to be accused,_ Ace thought to himself, _of long-windedness, it would not be me. _"I told you already. Like… a plan. Help me out with it."

"What plan be this?"

"You have already been informed, errant knight," he teased.

"Errant? By no means am I wayward, unruly, defiant, or, indeed, errant."

"Then don't toy with me, and we'll proceed."

A dramatic sigh came from Mark. "I know of the subjects and the objectives of your plan. But I know not the means."

"You know, sometimes I'm thankful that you, at least, don't use 'thou', and say 'shalt' sparingly, but…"

Mark glared at him impatiently, momentarily breaking through his coolly mysterious image.

Ace let a brief chuckle escape him, then proceeded, "It's simple enough. I've sung enough songs, seen enough films about love. We all would like a fairytale ending. We all would wish for a desired couple, a long-standing duo to come together as more than just friends. They see each other every day, one flirting with everything he's got—" Here, there were twin peals of mirth. "—and the other detesting him with all her guts. There has been enough interaction between the two, and I'm not exactly one to stand idly by. (Nor, I might add, are you, especially when drama is to play out by your hand.)"

"Yes, that is the objective; but pray tell the means."

"I have deliberated on this for a while, and decided that increasing the _potency_ of these encounters will be the most apt means. Awkward situations, you know."

"Clichéd, I have to say, but for a cheese like Klavier, it just might work. But what of the dear 'Fräulein Detective', as we so hear her called?"

"Easily embarrassed, and that is easily exploited." He laughed easily, remembering the blush that had spread over Ema's fair complexion.

* * *

"Polly!"

"…Trucy, I've thought about this 'plan' for a while, and you can't—" Trucy wouldn't listen, he was sure, but there was nothing to do but try.

"Hold up for a second! You _know_ you can't persuade me either way, but I've decided to let you in on a few more details—since you're so skeptical, you know."

"Alright, let's hear it," Apollo said cautiously, wondering how he could use it to his advantage, and knowing that Trucy was telling him not to convince him, but because she was dying to share her so-called unappreciated genius with someone.

"Increasing the number of encounters won't simply do the trick. Ema and Mr Gavin meet together all the time—nope, the second part to this is to get them alone."

"Those two? In the same room? Alone? Together? I've never been to Gavin's office after the two of them have had a meeting, but I'm pretty sure…" An image of a wrecked office with papers strewn around and Snackoos patterned across the floor passed through Apollo's mind.

"Don't worry, Polly, I'm sure that doesn't happen!"

"Trucy—"

"Mr Gavin's her boss, after all!"

"That never stopped her, I'm sure," Apollo muttered.

An odd look came over Trucy's face as she contemplated something. "I think it's time to start. This plan might take a while, after all, so it's time to get them alone in this party." She paused. "Polly?"

But the defense attorney had gone.

Trucy shrugged to herself. "Never mind him," she murmured to herself. "So long as he doesn't interfere… Hi, Mr Gavin!"

"Fräulein." He nodded at her, directing a sunny smile in her direction. "I must thank you for your invitation."

"No problem! Um… could you help me with something?"

"Of course."

Trucy clutched the opportunity quickly. "Then… I left some magic equipment in the other room, but I've got to set up here, so could you get them for me? A finger-cutter and a huge wooden stick. Oh, and a red silk scarf. Sorry for the trouble!" She bumped her fist against her hat, giving a cutely apologetic look.

"It is no trouble at all, fräulein magician. I will only be too happy to help."

One suave smile later, and Klavier had disappeared into the confines of the storeroom. Trucy deliberated for a second—then she sought out Ema. "Hey, Ema! Polly says he left some chords in the room over there. Could you go get it for him?"

"What? Chords?" Ema turned to look at her, a distracted Apollo beside her.

"Yeah, you know, chords of steel! Right, Polly?"

"Huh? Huh? Oh… yeah. Thanks a bunch, Ema…" Apollo confirmed, not at all sure what Trucy had just asked him, preoccupied by the grape juice he had spilled all over his red vest.

"He's too scared of the monster to go in," Trucy confided in low tones. "And so am I."

The detective gave her an odd look. "…Sure, I guess…"

"That…" Trucy proclaimed. "…was too easy."

Apollo sighed impatiently, and resorted to removing his vest entirely, wearing only his white cotton shirt. "What are you up to now, Trucy? What was too easy? Where's Ema? What did I just agree to?"

But like the infuriating little girl she was, Trucy simply gave a mysterious smile, and then proceeded to double over in a fit of giggles. After a moment, she straightened up, and pointed towards the door in the far end of the room. "Lock!"

There was, amazingly, a noticeable click.

There was also a click within Apollo's head. "Ah… I see. I'm assuming you told Prosecutor Gavin you left something in the room."

Trucy nodded, her eyes on the door.

"Still, it's too obvious. They'll exchange notes (metaphorically, of course), and it'll be too obvious that you're behind all of this. And that'll ruin your plan." He smiled at the notion.

"Silly Polly. It would be obvious _anyway_, even if I stole something of theirs and left it there," she said, in a tone that suggested the idea was very, very appealing. "So there's no point trying to hide it. So what if they know what I'm trying to do? I have, after all, a contingency plan. Every magician does!" She paused. "Any magician worth knowing, that is, and I, of course, fall right smack into the category."

* * *

He heard a 'click' behind him as he fished out a long red cloth from a dusty chest, and turned to see the fräulein detective looking around the room. Upon catching sight of him in a dark corner, the corners of her mouth turned down and she looked away. Then the pair of them whipped their heads around as yet another click echoed through the room.

"…It is locked," Klavier said, as Ema rushed to the door and jiggled the knob vigorously. "And I suppose you are here because the young fräulein magician 'forgot' something?"

"Not really, no," she spat. "But it was a poor excuse all the same, not much different from what she must've told you."

The chances of getting out without outside help were slim, and Klavier had seemed to have misplaced his mobile phone. _Ace probably took it. _The fellow band member had a habit of nicking his things when it suited them—_not_, the prosecutor reflected, _the most suitable hobby for a defense attorney, even if he does not do it for malicious purposes. _"Your phone, fräulein?"

Ema was already rummaging in her bag. "…Not here… Trucy must have taken it." She strode to the door and hammered on it with her fist. "OI!"

The noise passed through the old, cheap door, and into the noisy living room. Trucy, who was within a five-meter radius heard it. "…What was that?" Phoenix asked, scrunching up his eyebrows.

"Oh… that? Nothing… Just Mr Hat! I've been trying out a few new tricks—" Trucy began.

"Klavier and Ema… Where are they?"

"Tee hee!"

"Well… do what you like, then…"

"Mr Wright!" Apollo said, appalled. "How can you… Oh wait. Right." The attorney then recalled that this was _Phoenix Wright_ he was talking about, and _Trucy's dad._ He was the sort of dad that might reproach her for stealing alcohol because she was too young to drink.

Subsequent cries of "Help!" or something to that effect were drowned either by the loud, _purposeful_ bangs of Trucy's magic tricks or the cracking of Franziska's whip.

"…No use…" Ema muttered to herself, hearing the deafening noise outside of the room._ This… is stupid. It seems so clumsily orchestrated. And yet… Trucy seems the type to know what she's doing when it comes to plans. But still, such a clichéd situation? She _is _a teenage girl, I suppose._

Klavier simply laid back, his fingers interlocked behind his head, and rested his back against the jumble of boxes. "Well, fräulein, it looks as though we will be stuck here for a while…"

"Someone! Mr Wright!"

"I am sure the fräulein magician would be holding a very _noisy _display of magic…"

"Apollo? Trucy!"

"She will let us out in due time, I am sure…"

"Mr Edgeworth! Miss von Karma!"

"Ah, Herr Edgeworth. You are acquainted with him, ja?"

"Larry Butz! Pearl Fey! Maya Fey!"

Her voice was unheard through the booms and cheers of Trucy's performance, the blaring noise of the Steel Samurai, and the yelps of pain at a certain whip, but three people knew exactly who was trapped in the room. Trucy and her father, of course. And Apollo.

Apollo was, at this moment, wondering what he should do. It was obvious that he should barge into the room and release the trapped Ema and Klavier, but his path was blocked by a rather off-putting whip.

And Ema, who would have given anything to get Apollo to get them out, was giving up hope. Well, it wasn't as if… Well, things could be worse. There might be _two_ Klaviers in the room. Ema cringed at the very thought, imagining the two comparing their _hair_, and who knows _what _else.

And Klavier, who was smiling to himself, reflected that Trucy was either a very smart girl, or happened to have very good luck. This ridiculous plan relied far too much on chance, and far too much on naïve flights of fancy, but then, if she had observed Ema's habit of flushing a pleasant red, it had been a calculated bet. The fact that the detective could be flustered so easily was certainly a point that was very much in Trucy's favor, in a plan such as this. He opened his mouth to utter (quite daringly) a _very_ dirty innuendo, but then Ema shot him a Look that was probably meant to address the sly, mischievous look that he must have been wearing, so he opted to try a different tack.

Klavier was very skilled in many ways, one of which was the oratorical front. You _had_ to be a good speaker to be _the_ genius prosecutor. This oratorical aspect included a more… _unusual_ trait that the rock star possessed, and that was the gift of silence. Conspicuous silence.

"…"

Ema couldn't help but notice.

"…"

So she ate to fill the silence. MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH.

And yet, it was ever present. A quiet, a hush pressing down upon her, like some suffocating presence. "…"

MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH.

"…"

MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH

"…"

"I wonder… what Trucy is planning," Ema mused, simply to break the unbearable silence.

Klavier smiled. "She _is_ a teenage girl, ja? It should not be hard to guess."

"Tch. Annoying."

_It will not work—unless _I_ take advantage of this…_ "Let us humor her, ja?"

The woman was back to ignoring him, and rattled the doorknob. "Apollo! Anyone!"

And her cry was heard, of course, by Apollo, who was listening closely. Then he eyed the whip.

"It will not work, fräulein detective," the prosecutor said, though he was sure Herr Forehead would have come by now—the attorney surely was not supportive of this intervention, and her shout could be heard by someone who was listening carefully. The only question was—why did he not come? There had to be something holding the spiky-haired man up, and if Klavier listened carefully, he could tell that the whip lashing was occurring right outside the door. But was it his imagination, or was the cracking of the whip slowly beginning to fade?

So perhaps Apollo Justice would, er, _rescue_ them from the rather stuffy room. And Klavier could work a little magic of his own.

Ema was back to jiggling the doorknob.

"Nein, fräulein, that is not the way to do it."

"Then _what_ is, Prosecutor Gavin?" she hissed, without turning around.

Klavier strode forward, and leaned over her back, hesitating for just a moment before he leaned down completely and took her hand in his. With his mouth just beside her ear, his face so close to hers, he could almost _feel_ the heat from her flush radiating off her. "Like this," he instructed, clutching her hand and turning it with his, and yes—as his sharp ears had detected, a click sounded as Apollo turned the key in the lock.

So Klavier twisted his wrist—and fell forward with their combined weights pulling them face-flat onto the ground.

"Ach!" the prosecutor exclaimed, as his head landed heavily on Ema's back, then joked, "I hope you have not ruined my face, fräulein detective."

It was small comfort that the crowd was too distracted with Trucy's show to have heard the muffled thump as they landed on the dusty carpet, Ema thought, because the impact of her head of the ground must have had some adverse effect on her, causing all her blood to rush to her face at breakneck speed. "I couldn't care less about your precious mug, Gavin," she said, annoyed. "What I _do_ care about, though, is you getting the hell off of me."

He obediently rolled off, then lazily got to his feet. "Your face, however, is… tomato red."

"No, it's not," Ema said firmly, scrambling up.

He made no comment, but caught her by the chin and looked straight into her acid eyes. This would have caused another flush, had Ema not already exhausted her blood supply. "What. Do. You. Want."

"No blush? I beg to differ…"

Her eyes widened as a smile spread across his satisfied face.

And then Ema realized Apollo, who was standing beside them, was blushing as much as she was. And realized how this would look.

"Ugh… You glimmerous fop!" But before she could even begin to push him away, Klavier had already let go of her chin, and turned towards Apollo.

"Thanks for letting us out, Herr Forehead," he said with an easy grin. "I trust it was Trucy that trapped us?"

"Well—"

"Polly! What are you doing over here? Come join the show!"

The interruption was as good as a confession. Apollo glanced back helplessly as the girl dragged him over.

* * *

"Hey, Pearly…"

"Yes, Mystic Maya?"

"That's Klavier Gavin!"

"Um…" Pearl pondered, biting her thumb. "…Ah! I… think I've heard of him."

"You ought to go out more, Pearly. You're already a teen, after all!"

"I still have to train at Kurain before I can go out to the city properly."

"Aw, you're already a proper spirit medium! You should come out with me some time—then you could see the 'Apollo' and 'Trucy' Nick always talks about… and you'd know about Klavier Gavin."

"I do know him, Mystic Maya. He's the prosecutor that got Mr Nick disbarred."

"Hm…" Maya turned her eyes towards the ceiling. "I'm not sure what I think about that," she said slowly. "It's not an easy thing to forgive, but somehow, I think he was tricked. Like how Nick was tricked."

"Both of them… were fooled?"

"Yeah. I don't think he's the bad guy, Pearly. You can see it, can't you?"

Pearl squinted slightly, and tilted her head a little to the side, her eyes faraway and misted over. "…Yes, Mystic Maya. Maybe."

"Anyway, that's _the_ Klavier Gavin! Prosecutor or not, he's the lead singer of the Gavinners!"

"And who's that person beside him? She looks kinda like you, Mystic Maya."

"Oh! That's Ema Skye. Which brings me to my next point."

"Is she his special someone?" asked Pearl obediently. Despite her age, living in an enclosed world such as Kurain had made her fall back on those old tales of valor and love, and she believed in classic storybook endings. She still didn't go out much, though she was quite old enough.

"Spot on! That's what _I_ want. That's what _we_ want. Right, Pearly?"

The brown-haired girl nodded her head gleefully, bouncing on her heels. "Right after you and Mr Nick!" she said cheerfully. She still hadn't dropped the 'Mr Nick' habit to simply 'Mr Wright'.

"You're still going on about that, huh… Well, anyway, let's just focus on Klavier Gavin and Ema Skye."

Maya was a watchful person, and was more mature than people took her for. True, she was in her 20s now, but her exuberant nature had led people to believe she hadn't yet grown out of her childhood. This 'match-making'… was_ not _borne of her mature side, but of the childlike, fairytale mentality she had borrowed from Pearl. Well, that and the scene of Klavier landed on top of Ema, and tipping her chin up was simply too cute to resist.

Many would agree that Maya Fey spent too much time reading cheap Harlequin novels. Watching Steel Samurai and Pink Princess videos obsessively didn't help either.

"But Mystic Maya… we know nothing about them! How are we supposed to get them together?"

"Know nothing? Heh, just wait and see, Pearly."

There was, after all, a little something (though admittedly a bit on the shady sides of the law, but there was nothing like a bit of good, not-so-clean fun) called stalking.

* * *

"I demand a competition, Miles Edgeworth! One to determine who is truly the perfect one."

Franziska had no doubts _she_ was the perfect one, but that stupid Miles had mocked her with a snide jibe, and she was _not_ about let him get away with it. So she had whipped him, but the moment the pain fled, another smirk had spread over his face.

"The perfect one? I never knew you were so insecure, Franziska," he sighed, shaking his head with a touch of his hand.

"Fool!" she cried, and whipped him. "I am, quite obviously, the superior one, but _you_ do not seem to know that. My record in court will be enough to prove it, my win record, so perhaps you doubt me in other areas."

"Your social etiquette could be put into question," he muttered. "One does not whip one's older brother, or speak so brusquely without reason."

"Without reason? You mock me, little brother." She held the whip over her head threateningly. "I accept your challenge!"

"Challenge? W-what challenge?" he questioned, taking a step back as her whip cracked into the air.

"Social etiquette? My mastery of the human psychology is nothing less than perfection. But how shall I prove it… Ah! That is Ema Skye, no? She detests Klavier Gavin, had a schoolgirl crush on you (and you _have_ to be as different from that Gavin as anyone could be, from what I have heard of him), and it would be nigh impossible to, say, 'hook them up'."

"Oh no…" Edgeworth knew Franziska had a habit of building everything up, and when all else failed, come up with a ludicrous competition built on a ridiculous notion.

"Well, Miles Edgeworth?" she inquired pompously, extending her arm and fanning out her fingers in a challenging gesture.

"Franziska…"

"Silence, fool!" she snapped, and held her whip up with a dangerous glint in her eye.

"W-well…" Edgeworth said hurriedly, eyeing the whip. He supposed it would be best if he actually knew her plans—then he could hopefully put a stop to them if they got too… meddling. "Yes, I suppose so."

"Then the game is on! I expect to see a plan up to standard, Miles Edgeworth—don't you dare try to go easy on me!"

"You expect me to come up with a plan too?"

"Of course! How else could we compete?"

"A-ah, I see. Well then, I can assure you that you will not be disappointed."

But inside, Edgeworth thought, _things just got a lot more complicated._

* * *

Ema stepped aside as something crashed down from above, then raised her eyebrows as she turned back. "Gavin… Have you not realized it yet?"

Klavier had plunged into the path of the object, planning to push Ema aside from the falling hazard. "Ach. Force of habit." He rubbed his head a little. "I know they would never try to harm either of us."

Which was why the object was a Styrofoam box. Klavier quickly stood up.

"And I am _not_ some damsel in distress. Even if what they threw down were heavy, it would never get the chance to hit me. _Hear that, Trucy? You're welcome to try! Count yourself lucky we're not suing you!_"

Suddenly, she flicked her hand towards the surprised prosecutor. Klavier turned back, alarmed, and noticed yet another Styrofoam box clattering to the ground behind him.

"It was going to fall on you," Ema explained. "So I pushed it out of the way."

"…I do not think it is the fräulein magician who is doing this."

"Huh? But it has to be!"

"True, the plans are clumsily orchestrated, but that just means someone is toying with us and having a lot of fun."

Something about the way he said it made her suspicious. "And… you know who it is?"

"…Maybe. I cannot be sure. But Herr Forehead is investigating the crime scene, and Trucy Wright is sure to be with him. She is not allowed in that part of the Prosecutors' Office, in any case." He looked thoughtful.

Then Klavier turned his eyes towards the sky, and said, "I do not think they are there any longer, whoever the perpetrators were."

_Does he mean that there were more than two people?_ Ema thought.

"Fräulein detective," he said out of the corner of his mouth. "I believe… there is someone behind us."

"I take it you mean 'following', and not just randomly walking behind us, right?"

"Ja, of course," Klavier said, giving a smirk at what he probably thought was her silliness. "Or 'stalking'. They… have been doing it for some time."

" 'They'? Who?" Ema said.

The prosecutor made an impatient motion with his hand, biding her to keep her voice down. "Maya and Pearl Fey."

"_What?_"

"Quiet!" he asserted softly. "I have a bad feeling about this…"

A/N …The end, for this chapter. I think I'll need two more to wrap this whole thing up.


	7. The Beginning of the End

A/N Klavier uses some _logic_ in this chapter. I made up all the stuff about paperwork and evidence retrieval. 

**Chapter Seven: The Beginning of the End  
**

"_These_…" he said empathically, "…are horrible."

"They are _not_."

"Yes, they are."

"Then stop eating them!"

Klavier tossed a Snackoo over his shoulder. KA-TONK!

"Mystic Maya! Are you alright?"

"Yeah, Pearly. But be quiet!" the Master of the Kurain Channeling Technique asserted sternly, and, above all, _loudly_.

Ema rolled her eyes. "Can we just confront them?"

"Nein. This is too much fun."

That was pure Klavier, through and through.

"Well, I guess it's not as if they'll be allowed into the crime scene," Ema acknowledged.

Thankfully, investigating the crime scene held little interference from the rest, perhaps because Klavier left soon after, since he rarely hung around anyway. So Ema was left in peace, to play with her forensic equipment, and order the other officers around. A brief visit by one Ace Lerano, who was the defense attorney on the case, but other than that, _zero _Gavinner—and therefore fop—interference. Unfortunately, a terrible surprise awaited her in her office.

Three stacks of paperwork, and two fat manila folders piled upon her desk.

"_What_?" she hissed. "_Klavier Gavin! I am going to kill that man!"_

But he wasn't in his office when she dropped by, and she was forced to settle for the paperwork after all.

But it wasn't as though Ema were working on any other cases—how could a simple, open-and-shut murder spawn so much tedious work? Sure, Gavin had two other cases on his plate, but—and thank god—she wasn't assigned to them. She sifted through the files, scanning each of the briefly. One for failed evidence retrieval, another for mucking up the crime scene (she would _strangle_ Meekins later), more autopsy reports (so the previous one was wrong?), _another_ of Meekins' mess-ups, unauthorized use of forensics equipment (damn)… the list went on.

Clearly, this was staged.

But Ema couldn't think of anyone who had the authority—Trucy certainly didn't. The only people she could think of were the High Prosecutors, most of them being on a business trip, except Miles Edgeworth, Franziska von Karma, and _Klavier Gavin_. The last name seemed the most probable, because _Edgeworth_ would never do something like that, Ms von Karma had no motive… and this was annoying enough to merit an 'I'm gonna get that idiot fop' status. It was the sort of thing Ema would assume, a conclusion and assumption, she thought, Klavier Gavin had earned because of his inherent idiocy. But he was her superior, she reminded herself reluctantly, and this was work. So the afternoon was dedicated to tedium.

By the time the end of the workday rolled round, she had managed to finish a little more than half, an amount she was proud of, considering how much she had had to do.

"I hate that fop."

She got up and stretched, ready to call it a day, before remembering she had to file and submit it to her superior. And the Chief was long gone.

Ema managed it, somehow, lugging the piles of completed paperwork with her, and opened the door with her chin, too annoyed to even knock. Not that she usually did. Then she tumbled to the floor, papers splaying everywhere, and made up her mind to make _him_ pick it all up. Before realizing he wasn't there.

The detective let out a moan at the sorry state of the world, collapsing into what Klavier called his 'work chair'.

She was well into sleep when the prosecutor returned, raising his eyebrows at the scene. "Fräulein detective?"

"Aaaaaaaah!" She woke with a start, eyes jolted open. "…Oh, it's you. Whatever, here's all the paperwork you wanted, and _goodbye_."

"Wait just a moment," he said as Ema made to get up from the ridiculously comfortable chair. "I did not ask for all this."

"What?" she asked in disbelief. "You're telling me, the person who worked on this the _entire damn afternoon_, that you didn't asked for this! _Don't even try pull one of your tricks_."

Klavier looked thoughtful under Ema's glare. "It seems there are more people involved in this than we expected."

"Shut up. I'm leaving _now_—"

Ema only saw the door swinging shut, the only route away from the fop and from work sealed. Klavier spied a flash of white—a smirk… or two…? Possibilities…

The woman immediately seized the door handle, and pulled hard. "You can lock this door from the _outside_?"

"Perhaps they used the old 'chair against the door' trick."

"…'They'?"

"Very sharp of you, fräulein detective. I have my suspicions," he said airily. "Now, to get out…"

"Your phone?"

"Gone, of course. As is yours, I suspect. Tell me… did you meet Trucy today? Or… my dear friend, Ace?"

She gave him a sharp look. "Not Trucy. Lerano dropped by the crime scene. He _is _the defense attorney, after all."

"He has an unfortunate… habit. Of borrowing things. Very sneakily."

"Um. He _is_ a defense attorney, right?"

"Your hand phone. My hand phone. Not, I think, a coincidence."

Both pairs of eyes were drawn to the phone on his desk. "It will not work," Klavier sighed.

Ema fingered the broken cord. "This is a criminal offense."

"I always keep an extra cell phone on me, just in case… Ah."

"What?"

"Missing, as I half-expected. I suspect that he is planning the same thing as Trucy, with some help. And I believe there are others at work here."

"You do?"

Klavier had the 'prosecutor look' about him, a face Ema had seen all too much. The expression he wore when all the pieces had come together, giving way to a smirk, whether it was to the prosecution's advantage or not, simply because the hapless defense attorney hadn't figured it out yet. And at that moment, she was that defense attorney.

"Ja, I do. Paperwork. The only people who could have would be Franziska von Karma, Herr Edgeworth, and I, and it wasn't me. I, however, cannot think of a reason why they would do such a thing. Another thing that seems interesting to note is the sheer amount of paperwork. Half of that would perhaps be a little more than a regular load, so why go through all that trouble of generating a ridiculous amount? I believe it is because _two_ people did it, and the only two who _could have_ done it were Franziska and Edgeworth. I do not think they would work together, however, so it must be… something of a coincidence? Unlikely, but if their motives were the same, they went about the same method to achieving whatever they wished.

"Ace stole our phones. He was planning something too. But the question is, was he collaborating with one of them? He barely knows them, so that hardly seems likely. So he must have gone to your office before meeting you at the crime scene, and saw the paperwork. He assumed I had given it to you to file, probably, and decided it would be a good opportunity. So he steals your phone, and mine, and cuts the cable. I was out for the better part of the day. When we are both here, he shuts us in. The same thing Trucy had done. And when he did… I spied _someone else_ with him, but it was only for an instant—I could not see his face, nor his features, only that the other person was a man."

"Right. But that won't help us get out. People are bound to come by, right? And they'd see that chair."

Klavier shook his head. "Ace is one for playing tricks. All the prosecutors know it, and he is possibly outside the door right this instant, playing it up as a practical joke. No one would mind him. Well, it is a practical joke of sorts, I suppose," he added as an afterthought.

"Then it's back to Plan A," Ema said firmly.

She went to the door and called for help.

"Fräulein detective… the room is soundproof."

"Well, I'm not about to stay here!"

"Relax. It seems he is out of originality, so we will be safe from the antics of the others, ja?"

"You know, Gavin, I'm not so sure about that. From what you've told me about Lerano, nothing is ever that simple." She paused for a moment. "And I don't have my Snackoos with me!"

The prosecutor smiled. "Here," he said, tossing her a packet.

Her eyes widened.

Klavier shrugged. "I did, er, steal a few from you."

"It seems not only defense attorneys are thieves." Throwing him a dirty look, she tore open the packet, and seized a handful, solely for the purpose of Snackoo-ing him. He dodged easily.

"Refrain from dirtying my carpet, if you would, fräulein detective."

"Now, how should we get out…" Ema murmured, glancing around the room. "Well, there _is_ the fire alarm, I suppose."

"Now, that would constitute as 'dirtying my carpet'," Klavier said firmly. "The sprinklers, ja?"

Ema furrowed her brow. "Gavin," she whispered in low tones. "D'you think… someone else is here?"

"No point in whispering, fräulein detective. The sound carries round," Klavier said cheerily. "And there is no point in hiding, either."

"Yeah, c'mon! I know you're there, Maya Fey!"

There was no answer.

"And you too, Pearl!"

No response.

"Huh. I could've sworn…"

"Tch, we sure got them fooled!" Maya's blithe tones broke the hush.

There was an air of definite hesitation, and then she seemed to concede. The Master of the Kurain Channeling Technique scrambled from her hiding place, pulling her companion teenager behind her.

"Um… Hi?"

_**

* * *

**_

Franziska was walking round with a leer on her face, and when she bumped into Edgeworth in the corridor, she cracked her whip on the floor. Miles, too, wore a smug smirk, greeting her with a satisfied tone. It really was, he thought, quite a clever plan to both qualify Franziska's wants for him to participate in this childish competition as well as his own desire to simply let things be. "So, how are your plans?" he questioned politely.

She smirked. "All very well, Miles Edgeworth! All very well indeed… and yours?" There was something in his eyes that suggested that he had already put his plan into place, and Franziska wanted to show him that he was nothing compared to her. Which was why her rather ingenious first move was to thwart whatever Miles was planning.

"Hm, not bad, not bad. Quite good, in fact," he replied, as he thought about the piles of paperwork. He knew for a fact that Ema Skye detested paperwork, and what better way to annoy her than to give her a whole lot of redundancy in one day? She wouldn't suspect a thing—well, she wouldn't suspect Miles Edgeworth, anyway. He felt a little guilty for taking advantage of her… 'fangirlism', but it was a very good way to ensure that she stay angry towards Klavier. Franziska, he knew, was one to act quickly. Whatever audacious plans she had of them would only further Edgeworth's own.

"I see," Franziska said, watching him carefully. It seemed, she thought, he was not yet aware of the little gift she had bestowed upon Ema, the very thing that would halt his plans in whatever devious track he had devised. A little something that Franziska hated because of its inherently tedious nature, and something she was sure Ema Skye shared with her. Paperwork. The word itself almost caused her whip to flick dangerously at the coffee machine. If Ema Skye was irritated, whatever brew Miles had cooked up would be poisoned with the malice Franziska felt sure Skye was feeling toward Klavier Gavin, being, to Ema's mind at least, the most probable suspect in that heinous crime to bring down her morale. Miles Edgeworth was a tricky one, for fools were hard to fathom; he would execute his plans (and Franziska was sure he had many) efficiently and swiftly—only to be brought down by Franziska's own genius. True, this plan to cultivate hate would be troublesome later, but so long as Miles didn't get the prize before her, Franziska would be satisfied.

The two stood there in the corridor, smiling and staring suspiciously at each other, when Franziska spied something odd behind her little brother. "Miles Edgeworth… Is that Klavier Gavin's office?"

Edgeworth turned. "Why, yes it is. But what is that man doing?"

"Archer Lerano!"

The redhead faced her and smiled. "Hello, Miss von Karma, Mr Edgeworth."

"I say, what are you doing?" Edgeworth inquired.

"Just a little joke, no need to worry about it."

"That _is_ Klavier Gavin's office, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

That made sense. Lerano was, after all, a member of Gavin's little band. "And _why_ are you propping a chair against the door?"

"It's to lock it. From the outside," he explained, giving an _isn't-it-obvious-Mr-and-Miss-so-called-genius-prosecutors_.

That was_ attitude_. And Franziska von Karma would _not_ take it from anyone. She lashed out with her whip, so quickly that it seemed a red mark suddenly emerged from his arm with no apparent cause. "Ouch! That stings…" Lerano rubbed his arm vigorously.

"Hmph. Cease your tomfoolery at once, and head back to whatever office you came from, defense attorney."

But Ace knew he couldn't leave this place, because then Franziska would most definitely peek her head inside to find Klavier and Ema, and she would demand all sorts of inconvenient answers from Ace. He had to stay, at least until Mark came. "Well, there's a good explanation for this…" he improvised.

She kept up a duchess stare—cool and demanding.

"Yeah, um…"

It looked as though he had some fast-talking to do.

_**

* * *

**_

"Why were you following us?"

"We weren't!" Pearl said loyally. "Well, I guess we were… sort of."

Klavier measured them up. Pearl and Maya Fey, spirit mediums, and cheerful cousins who didn't act their age. And stalkers. "And why…?" he inquired, though he had his suspicions. Perhaps Trucy had got them to, as part of some kind of convoluted plan…

"Well…" Pearl started, chewing on her finger, a habit she never shed from her younger years. She looked to the side for a moment, before continuing. "Well… She's your special someone, right?" The way she said it was that of a child, another thing, perhaps, that she had never really lost to her teenage years.

Ema's eyes widened at the statement so blatantly put, blushing madly and stuttering uncontrollably. An uncomfortable feeling squirmed round in her stomach as she took a shocked step back and _away_ from Klavier. Unwillingly, her gaze snapped to him for a split second and she noticed, oddly enough, that even he seemed a little startled at the transparent innocence—and in that moment, she could just make out a little red easing itself into his tan. Their eyes met, both widening, till Klavier broke away from her gaze and let a smile spread across his face.

"Ha ha… For a teenager, you seem remarkably childlike," he remarked. "So… how did you come to this… startling conclusion?"

"And false, if I might add!" Ema interjected, still flushing uncontrollably.

Maya said, "You _are_ the perfect pair, aren't you? The flirty one, the annoyed one, you know, those—"

"Er, let us change the subject, ja?" Klavier hurriedly said, taking in Ema's murderous expression. "Have you been in contact with fräulein Trucy?"

"Not at all. So she's been trying to set you up? Well, it's only to be expected. Oh ho ho ho ho ho… You can't resist fate!"

Perhaps he ought to try a different tack. "Bitte, try not to interfere," Klavier said, winking with a charming smile. "We need our privacy, ja?" He pulled Ema close, feeling her stiffen.

"Klavier Gavin…" He heard her whisper in strained tones, as though anger had clutched her throat in indignation. "I will get you for this, I swear!" she hissed.

"Well," Pearl said doubtfully. "It's not like we can get out, right?"

All of them turned to look at the door—everyone save Ema, who had taken the opportunity to wrestle herself out of Klavier's grip, but he was too strong. "You glimmerous fop!" she managed, regaining her voice. "You know what you're doing? Sexual harassment at the workplace! Let… go… of… me…"

And he did. It was so sudden that Ema stumbled, almost falling to the floor, regaining her balance just as Klavier started towards her. She threw him a warning look. "Ah, my apologies, fräulein detective. But I believe there is a way out."

It seemed as though his ears were now attuned to that familiar whipping sound.

_**

* * *

**_

Trucy leaned back. "Pollllyyyyyyy… You really don't have any cases?"

"For the last time, no," Apollo replied crossly, trying to concentrate on Foxtrot.

"Then can I go out?"

"Ask your father."

"He's out!"

"Then no."

"But I can go if you'll go with me, I'm sure. So come!"

Apollo finally looked up. "Where to?" he asked wearily.

"Mm… Just to the Wonder Bar. I have a show there," she lied unconvincingly.

Nonetheless, Apollo didn't want her sneaking out to do whatever she was planning—it was better for him to at least keep track of her. So he nodded, and they both exited the Wright Anything Agency.

He kept a close eye on her in the cheery Wonder Bar as she paced up and down patiently. What could she be up to? Then, she snapped her fingers and ran down a corridor.

"Trucy!"

She didn't hear him, or didn't heed him, and started waving at someone in front of her. Apollo swerved to get a better look, and saw a very tall man with dark, tousled hair, sporting a dramatic black cape with silver clasps. The stranger looked up slowly, and what Apollo could only describe as a_ dangerous_ smile spread over his face. "Salutations to you too, Trucy!"

Apollo thought, _Um, I think it's bad if a little girl walks up to a stalker-looking stranger and starts chatting with him cheerily._ And then: _She always makes friends with the characters, doesn't she? _The man reminded him, curiously enough, of Valant Gramarye. Apollo had seen him around the same time as the Gramarye too… so perhaps not so much of a stranger.

"Going to meet Mr Lerano?"

"Why of course! I am sure my dear friend is positively mad without me!"

"Er, sorry, but who are you?" Apollo asked.

The man gave him a once-over, and, with a languid smile, offered a hand for him to shake. "Mark Ato," he said. "I _have _chanced upon you, Mr Justice, once upon a dream. Or as dreamy as the backstage of Sunshine Coliseum can ever aspire to be." He searched Apollo's eyes for any signs of recognition, and when none came, he said, "Drummer of the Gavinners."

"Ah… Right." Trucy must have spoken (or squealed) to that Mark Ato during the concert intermission.

"And so here I am," Ato said, turning back to Trucy. "Journeying along this meandering path to my comrade's aid. Would you like to join me?"

Trucy nodded jubilantly, and looked at Apollo, her eyes seeming to say _he's even more of an adult than you; surely I can go?_

The defense attorney was sure that Mr Wright wouldn't mind—he didn't seem to care much about anything, honestly—but… Well, he couldn't allow it for the obvious reasons. Anyway, it wasn't like Mark Ato wanted a girl as chatty as her tagging along; Apollo had had _enough_ experience with it to know that. Especially the scene with that ladder. _It was a ladder_. And she'd scolded him for stepladder discrimination, whatever _that_ was, and that argument had gone on for the longest time.

Apollo had a habit of delving into his thoughts in a way that made him forget about the rest of the world. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he had never really known many companions, for he had been raised in an orphanage for much of his younger years, so he'd settled for the company of his own thoughts. In any case, any questions he'd hear would be addressed with an 'Mm-hm', 'Right', or a simple case of ellipses.

By the time he'd looked up from recalling his hassling experiences with Trucy's unique view of the world in general, the girl herself had disappeared with Mark Ato.

"Oh… darn."

_**

* * *

**_

"Klavier… Gavin… and Ema… Skye," Trucy panted between breaths as she ran alongside the long-legged man. "You guys… have… plans for them…?"

"Naturally," Mark said easily. "And you need not feign any absence of deviousness on your part."

"…Yes… why don't… we team up?" Trucy grinned even as an uncomfortable stitch formed in her stomach. "That would… be fun!"

"Anything, my lady. But first, I am honor bound to consult my partner, and to respond to the plea of help he issued to me not long ago."

They took the lift to the twelfth floor, with Trucy clutching her stomach and breathing heavily. Mr Ato sure ran quickly! In any case, it was good that she had gotten his cooperation. That would make everything much easier. The lift _ping_'ed_!_ as its doors slid open smoothly, and Mark ran out.

There was a harried voice coming from the end of the corridor. "And Klavier, being the doof he is, locked himself in his office because he said that, well, I was disturbing him too much, you know? He does that sometimes, when he goes on a kind of writing song spree for the band. So anyway, I wanted to get in and knocked and everything, but he wouldn't unlock the door. And I'm practically family! Childhood friends and everything. I decided enough was enough, and wanted to try for some revenge. So when he's ready to come out, he won't be able to!" Ace explained lamely. _Damn. I'm really bad at this improvising, huh._

"Let's just go, Franziska. This is of no concern to us," Edgeworth said.

"Quiet, Miles Edgeworth. There will be no infractions of protocol on my watch! Let the prosecutor out of his office immediately!"

"Ah—well—you see," Ace fumbled. "There he is! Mark Ato! Just the man I wanted to see."

"It appears you have gotten your sad self into some trouble, does it not? And you require my divine help? Most amusing, indeed!" Mark remarked. "Well then, I shan't deny the favor." He gave a little bow.

"…Mark Ato."

"Would you please excuse my friend, Prosecutor von Karma? He is a little dim, but I assure you he means well," Ato said, smiling.

They all pondered on his last statement, and then glanced at the chair propped haphazardly against the door.

"And of course, I shall see you in court tomorrow," he added pleasantly.

"Hm. Well, I suppose we can leave now, seeing as this situation seems to be under control. I'm sure you'll do something about this, won't you, Mark Ato?" Franziska said with a dangerous look in her eyes as she brandished her whip.

"Gladly, my lady." He bowed again, eyeing the dreaded leather cord.

Ace, Mark and Trucy watched them go. "Huh. How is it that _you_ can drive them off?" Ace asked drily.

"They have recognized my clear superiority to you, my superb station that surpasses even the heavens."

Trucy was slightly lost in his words, but it was a good thing she knew just about everything about the Gavinners, and could guess what he was talking about. "Does what Miss von Karma said mean that you'll be the judge residing over her court case tomorrow?"

"…I think you mean 'presiding'," Ace muttered.

"There is nothing else so true as that. I shall meet her fiery whip in a battlefield of wits."

"Anyway," Lerano said loudly. "Can we get on with this? I assume you want to team up?"

Trucy's eyes sparkled as she assented. "And I have an _excellent_ plan!"

"Nothing too clichéd, I hope…"

She shook her head.

"No locking up people in rooms?"

"Nope!"

"Or a 'jealousy ploy'?"

"Never!"

"Or an 'accidental' fall?"

"No!"

Ace thought about this. "Well then, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."

_**

* * *

**_

Trucy… Trucy had to be at the Prosecutors block. And if she wasn't there, she was at the precinct. Apollo ran through all the possibilities in his head as he jogged through the winding alleyways behind the Wonder Bar. He was sure the place wouldn't be far from here.

"Ah!"

He spotted Franziska von Karma and her adopted brother striding out of a familiar building, and hurried to them. "U-um, excuse me, b-but…" he stammered as he found himself caught between the stares of the two intimidating prosecutors, which wasn't helped by the menacing whip that Franziska held all too readily in her hand. _I have _got_ to get over this prosecutor phobia. I mean, Prosecutor Gavin isn't that bad. Right? Right? _"H-have you seen Trucy?"

"Hmph!"

"Yes, we have. She was with that judge, Mark Ato," Edgeworth said helpfully, glancing at the annoyed Franziska. "The twelfth floor, I believe."

"Thanks!" Apollo hurried off. Then something clicked in his mind.

_Wait, there's more than one judge?_

…_Mark Ato is a judge?_

He quickly got out of the lift, and found the object of his search, along with Mark Ato and Ace Lerano. The next thing he saw was a chair propped conveniently against a tall mahogany door—a door that, he knew, led to Klavier Gavin's office. _What's she pulling now?_ he thought, groaning.

"Trucy!" he called.

The three people were huddled together, seeming to be in deep conversation, a notion that Apollo immediately discarded after the ridiculous thought of _Trucy_ being in deep conversation. They looked up at his shout, identical smirks spreading over their faces quite eerily.

"How very convenient," one of the men remarked.

Apollo advanced upon them, debating between taking the chair off and chasing them. _I should probably let Prosecutor Gavin out first…_

Trucy gave him a final smile as she ran off with the other two.

"…This ends today."

A/N And Trucy has a Plan. Edgey says something British! "I say, what are you doing?" or something along those lines. Apollo's favorite comic strip is Foxtrot. Was this chapter a bit slow? I need it to establish the next, and probably last, chapter. That's why it's titled **The Beginning of the End**. It's sort of an introduction, and sort of not... Explanation fail. The next chapter will probably be called something like **The End **or **The End of the End** or something. I have Mark Ato's characterization down pat, but Ace's… Well, if I have him in another story, his character may be different, because I thought of a better personality, but I'll stick to this one for this story anyway. Oh, and Mark Ato is a name with significance. Try guessing it. It's a musical term. Ace Lerano as well. His full name, Archer Lerano, is closer to the pronunciation, while his short form of Ace Lerano is closer to the spelling. Another musical term. A prize for those who guess right!

Review!


	8. The End

A/N This chapter will require piecing together. Things may not happen chronologically—rather, characters, and not time, will be the key. You'll get what I mean when you read it. Enjoy.

**Chapter Eight: The End**

There were ten people. One had an idea. Two thought it worth. The fourth swept up the fifth, and the sixth persuaded the seventh. Eight and Nine were their targets, and only the tenth stands against the other seven—or so he thought.

* * *

Klavier and Ema stumbled out of the room as Apollo wrenched the door open, closely followed by Maya and Pearl. As the prosecutor nearly fell into the corridor, he turned his head and saw a fleeting flash of red—the red of Ace's hair.

…_Hm. _"Herr Forehead, I assume you know who barricaded us in?"

Apollo was staring at Maya and Pearl, wondering what they had been doing in the room with the other two. "Mm."

There was an expectant pause.

"Huh? Oh! Yeah… Trucy, of course, and that Lerano guy and... er… that other guy."

" 'That other guy'?" Ema asked suspiciously.

"Yeah… what was his name again?"

"Mark Ato, was it?" Klavier said helpfully.

"Yeah, him! Wait, how did you know?" …_Oh wait. He's a prosecutor. They know everything._

"A suspicion, nothing more. I think other people are also involved."

"What? More people? There's already… let's see… Trucy, Lerano, Ato, and these two Feys. That's more than enough, thanks very much!"

"Heh heh!" Pearl giggled. They all turned to her. "I wouldn't be surprised if Miss von Karma and Mr Edgeworth were doing it too!"

A deadpan stare from Ema, and a skeptical look from Klavier greeted her words, but Pearl simply shrugged them off. "Well, at least we've got _these_ two under control," Apollo said.

—But he spoke too late, and the duo made an attempt to scramble off. Luckily, they were thwarted by Ema's quick reflexes. Klavier, who had also attempted to stop them, groped helplessly at the air in front of them and fell. Ema couldn't help but be amused at the prosecutor's uncharacteristic clumsiness, or rather, his clear absence of the irritating suaveness that he happened to flaunt at every occasion. _Not now_, she thought smugly as she released the cousins from her grasp.

Klavier got up, without any pretence of embarrassment at his fall, his ego still firmly intact. "Let us go before anything unexpected occurs," he suggested, with an untrustworthy look at the floor. No doubt he believed his fall was due to a fault in the tiling.

"Nothing would surprise me anymore," Ema muttered. "…Actually, a lot of things would, but Trucy has the imagination of an eight year old. The only things she can think up are 'trapped-in-a-room' and 'accidental fall'."

Apollo, however, was more doubtful, recalling Trucy's many audacious plans that had cost him a few years of his life with the stress of maneuvering around her. Maybe that was her master plan. Giving him an early death and taking all the defending business… _Ugh, what am I thinking? _I'm_ the defense attorney, not her! She doesn't even have The Badge. Or the Chords of Steel. Or, _he added, _a law degree. Well, not yet anyway._

"Fräulein detective, you have not finished investigating the crime scene, ja? I suggest you go there for the time being. Trucy will not be allowed there—Ach…"

"Yeah. Lerano's the defense attorney. He can go in, and he's sure to bring Trucy, never mind Mark Ato," Ema said.

They considered this, till Klavier spoke once more. "You still have work to do, however. We should simply carry on with our everyday tasks, and should anything unexpected occur, I am sure we will be well equipped to face it. In fact," he added. "I will buy a new cell phone for all of us. Be sure not to go near Ace or Trucy and we will not be troubled by any more of these locked room situations."

Ema took a moment to wonder what Klavier would deem a reasonable cell phone, and the figures behind them. "Um, I don't have a phone," Apollo said hesitantly.

Klavier wasn't sure whether Herr Forehead simply didn't own a cell phone, or if Trucy snatched it, but he was inclined to believe the former. "Alright, then," he said. "That may be arranged."

At that moment, a man rushed down the hall. "Delivery! Delivery for K-Klavier Gavin?"

_I don't believe this_. Ema and Apollo exchanged looks. There was _no _way that Klavier could have somehow magicked the phones here that quickly. Perhaps this was another ploy by Lerano and Trucy (and Ato, Ema added). The other two Gavinners were sure to have enough money to spare. Or rather, to waste.

"Ja, that is me."

Of course it was him. There was practically no one on earth who wouldn't recognize the fop, unless they were a hermit living on a deserted island in the middle of a non-existent Atlantis.

_And what does that say about me?_ Ema hadn't recognized him when she'd first met him, except that he had seemed vaguely familiar, and even that was simply because she had met him once at a gig at Gatewater Land. Of course, that brief encounter was overshadowed by _the_ Miles Edgeworth. Apollo, on the other hand, was a much sorrier case. Upon _seeing_ Klavier, Ema hadn't recognized him, but once he told her his name, she had immediately realized he was the prosecutor that Edgeworth had mentioned—and, of course, that he was a world-famous rock star. But the defense attorney hadn't known whom he was up until Mr Wright helpfully supplied some information. While withholding the important bits—like how the prosecutor had disbarred him.

"Here," Klavier said with a smile after dismissing the deliveryman. (Apollo briefly wondered what the deliveryman would do with Gavin's signature on the check.) He handed them two expensive looking cell phones.

Ema didn't even bother asking how he managed to obtain them, but Apollo did, even with the former mouthing him a warning.

"How did I achieve this in such a short period of time? How did I manage to attain such a high level of efficiency?" Klavier said in response.

_No, actually, just 'how did you do the impossible?'. …Oh wait. He's a prosecutor Prosecutors always do the impossible. …This prosecutor complex can't be good for my self-esteem._

"Well, that is rather simple."

_Oh no. Please, no. Apollo, _why_ did you have to ask?_

"I am Klavier Gavin, ja? And Klavier Gavin can do—"

"—And that's enough of that, thank you very much, _Klavier Gavin_," Ema cut in, interrupting his soon-to-be rant on his so-called greatness. "I'm going to go back to the precinct and away from you, so bye. Apollo, you can come along if you want. I know you don't know how to use a phone, so I'll teach you. Or you could let Gavin help you."

"Or me!" Maya piped up.

Pearl, on the other hand, didn't make such an offer, instead saying, "And where shall we go?"

Maya elbowed her cousin. "C'mon, Pearls, we can go anywhere we want! There's lots to do, after all. Busy, busy, busy…"

"Not, I hope, doing what I think you will be doing."

"Don't worry, Mr Gavin, we won't disappoint you! We'll be doing _exactly_ what you think we'll be doing."

Maya received a quelling glance from Apollo, and a glare from guess-who. "…We'll be eating burgers. Or going to see Nick…"

"Yes, let's go see Mister Nick!" said Pearl, who was easily led around. "Wait—I know. You can go see him alone, Mystic Maya, and I'll… go buy you burgers!"

A thought passed through Klavier, Ema and Apollo. _Shall we let them go? _Perhaps Pearl would be more distracted with Phoenix and Maya than Klavier and Ema. From what they surmised, she was quite the matchmaker. Ema gave a one-sided shrug. _Sure, why not?_

"Okay then," Apollo said. "You can go, but I'll go with you to Mr Wright, okay?"

Maya considered this in a silence that was broken by Pearl. "No, you can't! I mean… you can come with me to get the burgers, but Mystic Maya can go to Mr Nick alone…"

"Pearl…" Maya said with what was crossed between a warning and an exasperated tone. "Don't start this up again…"

_Perfect. They'll be too distracted to start any troublesome things. _"Well, you three sort it out among yourselves. I have work to do, and… Klavier has some fopping around to do." _Odd_, Ema suddenly thought. _Why did that last bit seem so awkward? Was it because of the 'fopping around' part, or… _Then she realized it was because she had called the prosecutor 'Klavier', and not 'Gavin' or 'fop' as she would usually do.

It was an unwelcome thought, quickly broken by the bickering of the others. Ema stole a glance at Kla—Gavin, only to find him turning to her at the same time. He spoke as her eyes turned back to the retreating figures of Maya, Pearl and Apollo.

"You really are heading back to the precinct?"

"Yes," she said shortly.

Klavier hesitated for a moment, as if unsure. "…Well then… be careful."

Surprised, Ema turned to him, but the prosecutor had already headed back to his office with a momentary over-the-shoulder look back at her.

And, to Ema's unease, he looked…

Worried?

…Concerned?

For her?

Ema quickly discarded the thought. It didn't matter what the fop's expression was, or what significance it held, because… because she had work to do.

…Or not. Ema suddenly remembered that it was the end of the workday, that she had already finished half of the gigantic mound of paperwork to submit to Klavier. Time to head back home. Another day done, another not-so-fatal situation escaped, another mystery solved. But first, she realized, she was going to have to find out who had poured on so much paperwork and why. Klavier said it wasn't him, and that both Edgeworth and von Karma had done it, but was that really logical? She knew _Miles Edgeworth_ wouldn't do it, and von Karma probably wouldn't do something as mundane (and possibly foolish) as that. And yet she was sure Klavier hadn't been lying.

Where to start? What should she do? The most appealing option was to go home—most would have done so already, save the ones who had to work overtime for a case, and she had no such case. Klavier had no such case either. All of the three cases he took were rather straightforward, after all, and he ought to be home right now.

—Except he wasn't.

Ema had been standing, thinking, in the hallway for quite some time since the prosecutor had shut the door, and she realized that he hadn't come out. She couldn't have missed him if she had, even in her reverie, and he wouldn't have passed by the chance to tease her if he caught her dazed outside his office, of all places.

Well, who knew. And who cared. Not Ema. For all she knew, he might have been mulling over a random case detail—but there was not even the smallest contradiction to ponder. For all she knew, he could be writing a song—but he had not penned a single tune since Daryan had been convicted. For all she knew, he might be practicing his guitar—but he had a thousand other _better_ guitars at his home, and a room with the proper acoustics too.

The door suddenly clicked open, and Ema instinctively hid behind a convenient couch. _Stupid, stupid! He'll notice you for sure!_ It was a very bad hiding place, Ema could see with a professional eye, having played many a game of hide-and-seek with Lana with dishwashing duty on the line. Not that she had played it recently. All Klavier had to do was glance to his left and a little down, and he'd see her, lab coat and all. And then he'd asked what she would be doing there, in a possibly incredulous tone, and she would think how ludicrous this all was, and… and Ema wasn't imagining an exchange with Klavier, because picturing the fop in her mind's eye would be a bit… weird.

_Anyway, he's leaving now, so there's nothing to be—well, not worried about, but… curious about, I guess. …I shouldn't even be curious about him. _

Klavier closed the door behind him, looking very distracted.

_It's as if he's up to no good_, Ema thought with relish.

He hesitated there with a troubled look on his face.

_Don't turn this way, don't turn this way…_

He didn't, and left for the elevator. Ema held in her sigh of relief till he was well out of sight. "Well, that was stupid," she announced, straightening._ …Oh wait. What if he's going to check if I really returned to the precinct? It _is _well afterhours, and he might be going to tell me that the case is already in the bag or something._

Whatever. She should just go home.

With that thought in mind… Ema followed Klavier. Wait, what? _I'm just a generally very considerate person, especially when fops ar—I mean, even when fops are involved. _

Klavier didn't take his motorcycle, instead choosing to walk. The precinct wasn't very far from there, after all.

She really was, Ema thought, too nice for her own good, for telling Klavier not to waste his breath. All she had to do was walk into the precinct after Klavier arrived at her office, and tell him that she'd gone to the bathroom, which was why he'd arrived earlier, and nod when he would tell her to go back home, or whatever he would do.

But Klavier didn't go inside the building.

Ema still followed.

* * *

The first was Trucy.

_**

* * *

**_

"Maybe we should start the plan tomorrow… I'm sure Mr Gavin and Ema have already gone home," Trucy mused.

Mark nodded slowly. "That is indeed true. Of course, we could take advantage of this delay. A blessing in disguise—it shall give us the golden opportunity to wreak justice in court! The Day of Judgment will, of course, occur tomorrow, and both I and my dear friend will be present, facing off against Skye and Klavier."

Trucy usually associated wreaking with havoc, but hey, whatever works, right? "That isn't a bad idea," she concurred. "Um… Day of Judgment meaning the trial, right?"

"Naturally. Though I must amend my previous statement—only he will be against them. I shall be on the side of justice with its impartial eyes, rendering the final verdict."

"Sorry, guys," Ace said, whipping out his pager. "Though this is good news as well. There's been a new string of clues found regarding the victim. They're going to have to investigate—the trial's tomorrow, after all. And that means overtime."

(And thus, a possible plot point was eradicated.)

Trucy's eyes glinted. The usual plan, then. "Then let's get started. No time for dallying!"

"Let's catch them at the precinct," Ace suggested.

"Or the crime scene," she said.

"Ah…" Mark cut in. "I, being the objective judge, will not look upon the facts of the case until tomorrow."

"Do all judges do that?" Trucy asked curiously. It sounded really irregular, truth be told.

But she never got an answer, for they arrived at the crime scene then, and Mark bade them goodbye.

"Hey, Ace, does that car belong to Mr Edgeworth? The red one, I mean."

Two cars were parked on the curb. They were identical models, and very fast-looking sports cars. The other car was pitch black. "Yeah, it is. The other one is Franziska von Karma's. I wonder what they're doing here."

They approached the crime scene, only to be stopped by Franziska. "You are not allowed here," she sniffed. "Archer Lerano and Trucy Wright."

"I'm the defense attorney!"

"Exactly."

That actually made sense, Trucy realized. Defense attorneys _weren't_ supposed to investigate the actual crime scenes.

"I left my pen there," Ace said.

"That is the most foolishly foolish lie I have ever heard!"

"Oh yeah? Prove it! Evidence is everything, isn't it?"

Franziska glared at him. "This is your pen," she said, handing him a gold-tipped fountain.

"No, it's not."

"Then prove it."

Trucy rolled her eyes at the display. It was amazing that the austere Franziska von Karma would participate in such a thing that Trucy would eagerly jump into. "Er, Prosecutor von Karma?"

"What is it?" she snapped, breaking off from the exchange with Ace.

"Ema let us in."

"She has not even arrived. That is impossible."

"Here," Trucy said solemnly, handing her the forged paper. Apollo had needed in at a crime scene when Ema had not been there, so Trucy forged a sort of vague permission letter that didn't state the time or place, but allowed investigation for one unnamed defense attorney.

Franziska obviously smelled a rat, but she couldn't prove it, especially since Trucy's forgeries were near impeccable.

"Anyway, you're not the prosecutor in charge. You can't kick us out," Ace said confidently.

"Fools! I am Franziska von Karma. I let you in simply because it amuses me. Go and join the forensics team for all I care."

Trucy smiled as they passed her. Really, what _was_ Franziska von Karma doing here? But she didn't quite dare to push her luck and ask. It was enough of a miracle that they were allowed into the crime scene.

"We can't mess with the crime scene," Ace said seriously. "Since Klavier isn't here yet, I think I'll do a little investigation first."

"Okay," Trucy said, and he slipped away. She looked onward, thoughtfully. They would be coming soon.

She waited, wandering aimlessly around. She didn't expect to really do anything _today_, because her plan had relied on a backdrop of their choice, and this was the untouchable crime scene. Tomorrow, it would all be put into place. Probably…

Then Klavier and Ema appeared, pushing open the iron-wrought gate that led to the crime scene, and stepping carefully to avoid the police tape scattered across the ground. Trucy watched as Klavier supported Ema… intimately? Could it be? Ema's expression was a little fixed, almost stony, but blushing nonetheless. Still, as far as Trucy knew, Ema didn't have any clumsiness problems. Maybe navigating the rocky ground was difficult in her heels.

"Thanks." She heard Ema mutter.

Klavier flashed a dazzling smile. "It is no problem, mein liebe."

"…What?"

"It means…" Klavier hesitated. "'My love'. Like sweetheart."

Trucy blanched. What an uncommon scene. What the…

Ema snapped at him, something Trucy actually found relieving. "S-stop that." It was less stern than she would usually do, and red spread over her face till Trucy thought she might explode.

But then, something strange happened. Klavier shot her a look that disappeared so quickly Trucy couldn't determine what was on it. It was replaced by an ingratiating smile. "No need to be so shy, fräulein detective."

When Ema didn't retort, Trucy looked around to make sure she hadn't landed in an alternate dimension.

This was strange indeed.

She walked towards them.

_**

* * *

**_

The second was Maya.

_**

* * *

**_

"Pearly, you're going to come with me. No 'if's or 'but's, and definitely not _one_ mention of 'your special someone'," Maya ordered in a commanding tone that she'd picked up from being Master. She rarely used it—the acolytes were obedient enough, and she didn't really feel the need to control, in any case.

"…Yes, Mystic Maya…" murmured the hapless Pearl, powerless against authoritative voice of Masters.

"But… we will go see Nick. We have to, don't we?" Maya said, turning to that defense attorney. What was his name? Something weird…

"Yeah, you do," he said firmly, and a little loudly.

That was fine. She'd go to Nick. The only question was, how could she turn that to her advantage? Then she remembered that Klavier Gavin had given Apollo a cell to contact him with. That was a definite problem.

_Heh. Not for me, it isn't!_

Not for the first time, Maya wished she could communicate telepathically with her spiritual powers, but as far as she knew, that was impossible. She needed some way to relay her plan—but then, she realized, there was a very simple way to escape. Obvious, but simple. And for a stiff-collared lawyer that he seemed to be, perhaps not so obvious.

So maybe she wouldn't see Nick after all.

"Hey, you!"

"The name's Apollo."

"Apollo… Apollo… No, that won't do!" Maya said. "How about I call you… Polly! Oh wait, that's a girl's name. Maybe not. Or Apple! …That doesn't really fit with your name, thought. Well anyway, Pearl and I need to go to the ladies."

"No," he said, sensing the obvious trap.

"We'll go to the one without the other exit. Only one door, see? You can wait here and everything. We really need to go!"

"Please, Mr Polly?"

He hesitated, then agreed. Excellent. He wouldn't suspect a thing—obviously, Apollo had believed her, rather foolishly. They trooped off to the restroom, with his intense eyes on their retreating backs all the way.

"Mystic Maya, what if he calls Mr Gavin?"

Maya smirked. "Oh, he won't. Don't worry about that." Then: "Oh… darn. I can't fit."

She had stood on the toilet seat and unscrewed the vent, peeking her head inside. "I guess I'm growing old! Oh no! Soon, I'll be as old as Nick… or not," she added, remembering how much older he had looked with his hobo-like ensemble, and a little stubble. "Look, Pearly, you'll have to gone on without me."

A picture of the utmost shock and horror.

"You have to move on! Leave me!" Maya cried dramatically, but not too loudly in case the acoustics carried her voice all the way to Apollo. "I'll catch up, don't worry. Here's his cell phone—I nabbed it."

Pearl accepted it and crawled into the piping. Trucy wasn't the only thief around. And Maya could work some magic too.

She got past Apollo pretty quickly. She knew this because her phone now read 6.21pm, and she'd written the note at 6.15pm. Of course, she was sort of unconscious for the most part, but hey, Apollo was out of the way. _I wonder where Pearl is. Maybe I should call her—except I don't have Apollo's phone number, and if she's still up in the ceiling, that would totally give her away. Maybe she'll call me. I'm sure she can figure out a phone._

So she waited.

_**

* * *

**_

The third was Pearl.

_**

* * *

**_

Creeping along the pipes, Pearl tucked the phone into her robe. It was a tight fit, but a Kurain-styled diet of nato and tofu served its purpose well. She trusted Mystic Maya to get out of Apollo's grasp—the thing she was really worried about was _where_ they would meet up. At Mr Nick's place? At the little apartment they rented? At the Wonder Bar? In any case, Pearl wasn't entirely sure how to get to any of those places. Chances seem rather dim when you're up in the ceiling and it's not certain that you'll be able to squeeze out again.

She clattered along the ventilation system, eventually reaching a fork. Picking a random side, she continued to crawl. It seemed to stretch on for eternity, the dark piping lit only by grills of light at every fifty paces or so. Pearl wanted to get out as soon as she could, but she couldn't find a single isolated area to drop down into. After some time, she decided to unhinge a grill over a solitary-looking area and get down.

Praying that she wouldn't be caught, she dropped silently onto the carpet, securing the vent in place with a few twists of a coin whilst standing on a chair. She panted and hopped onto the floor, wondering when she could wash off the dirt and grime. But the more immediate problem was finding out where she was.

Somewhere in the Prosecutors Block, no doubt, but nothing seemed familiar to her. Not near Mr Gavin's office, then. Not that it mattered, she realized, because she could simply take the elevator down and walk straight out. But with her shoddy appearance… Well, it looked suspicious, to say the least. Wait a minute—she was in a building full of prosecutors, wasn't she? And she'd just come from the ventilation system, hadn't she?

Pearl took a quick look around, and breathed a sigh of relief. No cameras here—odd, but then she never knew a normal prosecutor.

The teen went back to pondering here predicament, heading to the elevator. She couldn't very well go to the first floor, because Mr Polly would be there, so it would be best to go to the car park and get out from there.

That she did, and now the difficulty was meeting her cousin.

She thought about this for a moment, when it hit her. She had a phone. Maya had a phone. Phones were meant for communicating.

The only problem was, she didn't know how to use a phone.

Oh well. Random button pressing time. The first number she called was, unfortunately, Franziska von Karma. She tried again. This time, somebody babbled in what she thought was French. _Mr Polly sure has a lot of weird contacts in his phone… _Finally, she managed to contact Mr Nick. After a cheerful conversation, he told her he'd contact Maya. Where would they meet? Pearl thought about this. The burger joint might be too obvious, so… "Maybe… Edin Market?" Maya had brought her there when they first arrived, because she had needed to buy some chips for the party or something like that.

"Alright, Pearls. I'll tell her."

There was a click as he put down the phone. Pearl was pretty sure the Market was barely ten minutes walk away, so that was good. She hit B1 in the elevator, waiting in her grimy state with a frenzied-looking detective, who was mumbling to himself. What was he saying? "Skye and Gavin have to get down there, and fast. All sorts of new leads are coming up…" He lapsed more mutterings as Pearl processed this information.

That would be useful. She'd have to tell Mystic Maya. Only… Where _was_ the crime scene, exactly? It wasn't like she could just ask. Before she could even think up a plan, the doors slid open and she strode out. Perhaps they'd get lucky and stumble upon the scene or something. Not the best of plans, not that it really was a plan. She pricked her ears up to see if she could pick up what else the man was saying, but to no avail.

Upon reaching the Market, Pearl immediately spotted Maya in her purple medium outfit. "Mystic Maya!"

As she went on to inform Maya of the new development, Maya smiled. "That's great! It's too bad we won't know where the crime scene will be…"

Then, rushing past were two cars, one black and one red. Pearl turned to see them as Maya gaped. "I know that car! The red one's Edgeworth's! ...I wonder where they're going."

Pearl knew what was coming next.

"Let's follow them."

"But Mystic Maya, those are _sports cars_."

Maya rushed off to peek her head round the corner. "Look, the cars slowing down. Their destination must be near. Who knows, maybe they'll lead us to the crime scene! Even if they don't, we can ask Edgeworth where it is."

Hastily following, the cousins saw the cars park next to a cordoned off area. A crime scene, but was it _the_ crime scene? Maya's eyes glinted as she spoke. "I think this is it. Listen to what Franziska is saying."

Pearl's attentive ears caught a few key words floating towards them. _Overtime… Gavin…_

Pearl and Maya turned to each other with excited smiles. "But what about Mr Edgeworth?" Pearl said. He wasn't with Miss von Karma.

"Good point, Pearly. Let's go."

They crept along the wall, watching as Edgeworth descended into the darkness of an alley.

"So, should we follow?"

"I don't know, Mystic Maya. I think it's more important to go with Miss von Karma. She is at the actual crime scene, after all."

They watched Edgeworth pace up and down, as though waiting for someone.

"Still," Maya said. "He may be waiting for Mr Gavin and Ema. But… if we follow Franziska we'd see them anyway. Let's go, then."

Pearl nodded. Casting a final glance over her shoulder, they approached the crime scene.

Pearl spotted a red-haired man who she had seen in the party—what was his name? Arrow? No, Archer—with Trucy Wright, who was only a year younger than her. She got on with Trucy quite well, ordinarily. But what were they doing here?

"Archer Lerano," Maya said excitedly. "From the Gavinners. He's the defense attorney for the case."

"Mystic Maya… I need to go to the restroom."

Maya stared at her. Pearl attempted a smile.

"Alright, Pearly," she half-sighed. "It's not far from here. Why not I wait for you here?"

Pearl nodded, and ran off.

Maya was waiting for her at the entrance when she came back. "Mr Gavin and Ema are here," Maya informed her.

Pearl looked over Maya's right shoulder at the park. (She was as tall as Maya now, and growing.) "Mystic Maya!"

"What?" Maya turned around.

Suffice to say, their jaws dropped.

_**

* * *

**_

The fourth was Franziska.

_**

* * *

**_

It was, she decided, time to go on the offensive. But how? Franziska wasn't quite sure how much she had slowed Miles Edgeworth down, so she had to work quickly and efficiently. Then her phone rang.

"…Hello?"

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Franziska von Karma," she proclaimed. "How could you call without knowing who it is?"

"Huh? Oh, I see! Your name is on the screen now. This is Pearl Fey. Do you know Mystic Maya's number?"

"No," she said shortly, correctly assuming Pearl was referring to Maya Fey. "Goodbye, and do not waste my time with such trifles."

She hung up. She knew Pearl Fey was very inept with everyday technology, having lived in Kurain for almost all her life, but surely at seventeen even Kurain could not shield her from such things? Apparently not, since it seemed as though she were pressing random buttons in the hopes that she would eventually get Maya Fey on the line. Not such a remote possibility, since there were people who could help her.

Franziska pulled up her gloves. Where would Ema Skye and Klavier Gavin be? At their homes, presumably, since they were not required to work overtime. She should be returning home as well. Perhaps she should resume her campaign the next day. But she _had_ to make sure Miles Edgeworth would not do anything in the time being. …Hmph.

At that moment, someone came rushing towards her, saluting. "Prosecutor von Karma, sir! Is Klavier Gavin still in?"

"No."

"Oh…" the detective groaned. "You see, he has to come back straight away! There's just been a fresh set of clues, and the trial's tomorrow, so he's got to work some overtime. In fact, I better contact Ema Skye too…"

Franziska thought about this. "You know what, detective? I shall do that myself. Just go back to precinct while I handle this."

He gaped.

Then she turned stern and whipped him, hard. "Go!"

As he ran down the corridor, one thing stuck in his mind. The dangerous, calculating smile that stretched over Franziska von Karma's face.

It was an excellent opportunity for her to pounce when Miles Edgeworth would least expect it, to gun him down for the foolishly foolish fool he was. But how should she make use of this? She had to concoct a plan, and fast. Something ingenious. Something unheard of. No doubt she would be able to think of one, but in such a constrained period of time…

It was better to be doing, so she dug up Klavier Gavin's and Ema Skye's addresses and phone numbers as she thought about her course of action. She would call them, and… what would she tell them? The truth, or a cleverly fabricated lie to further her own ends? That depended on the falsehood, however. Think… think…

Perhaps the truth would suffice, since no promising ideas came to mind. At the very least, it would allow her to conceive a plan while they worked overtime, still giving her an advantage over Miles Edgeworth, who wouldn't know Klavier Gavin and Ema Skye had to work overtime.

She nodded to herself. The truth it was, then. Franziska quickly dialed their numbers, informing them of the required overtime. They would go to the crime scene, or somewhere nearby, to investigate the new clues. It would be a long night.

Interfering with investigation was permissible, she reasoned. If they were not present, the police would investigate and analyze the results themselves, handing it to Klavier Gavin the next day, who would prep Ema Skye. There would be little damage done to the actual trial.

With that slight moral bump aside, Franziska wondered how she should reach her objective. And she was at a standstill. Why was nothing coming to mind? Her perfection would not allow for such a thing to occur. She had to act _now_ and _fast_, which was _exactly_ what she was going to do.

Her heels clicked as she brisk walked to the crime scene. She had always been good at improvisation.

_**

* * *

**_

The fifth was Edgeworth.

_**

* * *

**_

When he received the news that a new set of clues had been found, he immediately sensed a storm brewing. Franziska would know. Franziska must know. It was something he inexplicably knew. And the hyper-efficient, competitive woman would not pass up the chance.

Edgeworth took his red car to the crime scene, and, midway, he noticed a black car, similar to his own, speeding past him. Franziska. He stepped down on the pedal, but the black car simply would not let him pass. So she was playing _that_ game, eh? Well, whatever competition she had cooked up, driving was one thing he simply could not allow her to beat him at.

He groaned in frustration as she refused to relent. Enough of this childishness, he thought. She could go ahead if she wanted. In any case, Edgeworth knew he should have remained inconspicuous, quietly observe and thwart her plan, whatever Franziska was planning on doing.

…And right now, it seemed like bumbling.

Not many would notice, but there was a subtle change of attitude. Her purposeful motions were missing, replaced by a lot more sharp retorts and insults thrown to the forensics team as she waited for Gavin and Ema. He smirked. So she didn't really have a plan after all. There _was_ nothing to thwart. That also made it more dangerous. If Edgeworth couldn't predict her actions, it was just possible that she could cobble together something last minute that would be entirely undesirable.

What was Franziska thinking? Bringing their little contest into this would mess with the investigation, the trial—the _case_. It was downright _wrong_. Interfering with the course of the law because of a silly little competition. And yet, it was just like Franziska to dismiss her actions as having little or no effect on justice itself.

Then a smile spread over his face. There was a way to avoid any mayhem, wasn't there? All he had to do was win the little competition before they got here.

The easiest way was through collaboration. Get Gavin and Ema to pretend. He wasn't quite sure if they would be willing, but chance was on his side. It was more probable for them to concede the logic of it, especially since Ema was a big fan girl of his, which might cancel out her dislike of Gavin. Edgeworth felt a little guilty for exploiting this, but then it wasn't _really_ exploiting it. It was only a little hero worship on Ema's part.

(Miles blocked out the images of her glomping him. Repeatedly. _Only a little hero worship. Nothing too big._)

He slipped out of his car as inconspicuously as a man in a blinding magenta suit with a cravat could contrive. Briefly wondering where he would find them, and how, Edgeworth settled for the juncture across the road that led to the main entrance. With any luck, he would find them approaching, and his car was conveniently blocking Franziska's view. Then he would ask them to go to a little less noticeable area and inform them of what they would have to do.

So when two figures emerged, bickering, he went up to them and carried out his plan. True, they looked confused, but obeyed and retreated into an alley. "Listen," he said seriously. "Franziska is going to attempt some kind of manipulation."

"…Oh."

"It's… a long story, but to cut to the chase, I am not willing to let her compromise the investigation or the case. Therefore, you will have to play along with me. Franziska concocted a little childish competition to pit against me, as always, and for her to give it up would be difficult unless she believes I have won."

"Er, wait a moment, Mr Edgeworth!" Ema interrupted. "This contest of hers… it wasn't, by any chance…"

It seemed Ema couldn't finish the sentence, so Edgeworth filled it in for her, with as impassive a voice as he could manage. "It involves matchmaking, the subjects being you and Gavin. It seems you are aware of this ploy?"

"Sort of."

"…In any case, it would be logical to play along for the moment," Edgeworth instructed. "Though I regret it, you will have to act the part."

Silence. The awkward kind.

"Just for the moment. The investigation must not be compromised. Franziska must be fooled."

"Unfortunately, Herr Edgeworth, it is not only Franziska von Karma who has been toying with us. My band mates, Archer Lerano and Mark Ato, have been at it too, and have recently formed a coalition with Trucy Wright. They will know about this."

"That is indeed unfortunate. All the more reason to play along. Archer Lerano is, after all, the defense attorney assigned to this case. Well, what do you say?"

Another silence. Edgeworth really couldn't blame them.

Predictably, Gavin was the first one to answer. "Ja, I am fine with it," he said, shrugging. But the previous silence had already told Edgeworth of his hesitation.

Ema knew she had to speak now. "Well, um, er… Really, Mr Edgeworth? Is that the only way?"

"There are always possibilities. But for now, this is the easiest. It won't even be real—just a little pretend."

"Fine, then." She said it as quickly and as abruptly as possible, as though squeezing the words out of her mouth so she couldn't taste them. "Whatever." Her terseness was directed at Gavin, not him, Edgeworth knew. Or perhaps at the situation in general.

"Nothing too explicit will be needed. Just act as though you were trying to hide a mutual affection. If you had a relationship, I wouldn't think you would want them to know. It would be realistic, and it would be entirely harmless. I think you might want to go now. It is imperative for your case that you investigate the new clues thoroughly."

Ema looked as though she were about to open her mouth in objection at the moment of deception finally have arrived, but with a glance at Edgeworth, she seemed to stiffen her resolve. Gavin looked like he really couldn't care less about the arrangement, but a little flicker of his eyes towards Ema betrayed him. Nothing escaped Miles' vision.

He nodded his head slowly. "Yes, it is time for you to go."

Then a voice rang out. "Hold it!"

_**(line break)**_

The sixth was Ace.

_**(line break)**_

Ema and Klavier finally arrived. Ace spotted them as he saw Trucy walking toward them. He ran up to them, pocketing his note pad, then nearly fell flat on his face in surprise.

What was that odd atmosphere? The strange… sort of tension, but not, between them. Was intimacy the word? …Nah… But Trucy was looking as perplexed as he was. Ema was striding slightly ahead of Klavier, but still, they were walking very close to each other, and something about the way they moved left Ace gaping.

He shook himself. It was his imagination, wasn't it?

"Hi Trucy," Ema said in a repressed tone.

"Hi..." Trucy was acting weird too.

Klavier seemed almost himself. Perhaps he _was_ himself, but Ace was watching more closely now and his close friend seemed less collected than usual. "Why are you here, fräulein? Accompanying Ace?" Klavier turned to him.

"Ha ha, that's right. Seems she's won a few cases for Mr Justice," Ace said, laughing. "I've investigated the crime scene already. My case seems pretty strong."

"Hm, we will see," Klavier replied, looking smug. "I have Ema here, after all."

Ace felt as though the world was a little off for a moment. Klavier called Ema 'fräulein detective', didn't he?

"So you'll be heading out now?" Ema asked.

Trucy looked at Ace. It was true they wouldn't do much today, and Ace really did have real work to do now, since some interesting implications rose in the witness, but… "No, we won't be. Um, I left my pen here."

Klavier shrugged, and followed Ema. "I shall tell you if I see it."

"What's up with them?" he hissed to Trucy.

"No idea! They're acting really weird, right?"

Both turned back to Klavier and Ema, who were kind of huddled together over some evidence.

"What're they trying to pull?" Ace wondered.

"They look as though… they were an item!"

"_That's_ what was bothering me," Ace realized. "_That's_ the feeling I kept getting. They're trying to fool us!"

"That's a pretty lousy plan. It's way too obvious to trick _us_."

They continued to stare at them. Ace smiled. "Let me try something."

He went toward Ema and Klavier, with Trucy following a little behind. "Hey, you two. You've been acting awfully weird."

"Is… is that so?" Ema challenged.

"Yeah. Almost as though you were an item," he said, faking a knowing smirk.

Klavier pulled off his acting-shocked-but-not-really look perfectly, but Ema was a more imperfect actress. "We're not!" she said, with a strangled tone that sounded more unnatural than… a chicken. _I don't think that made sense. _It sounded like someone failing at trying to act badly.

"Oh… I guess not, then," Ace said, sounding genuinely disappointed, and as though he were fooled by Ema.

Evidently, Klavier thought Ace extremely thick, because he believed Ace was fooled by Ema. "Ha ha. How many women would be shamed in dating an international rock star? You are the only one, I believe," he said to Ema, flashing a smile.

To Ace's surprise, Ema's blush looked very real, contrary to her earlier terrible acting, and she did look a little mollified. "You _are_ dating? Very funny, Klavier."

"You are the one who suggested it."

"You know, there's a little something called a joke, which is what you're doing now, incidentally."

"I assure you, I am not."

Klavier was really gullible, more than Ace expected. Perhaps when Klavier was carrying out a plan, he thought he had an invincible upper hand. "Oh yeah?"

"Ja."

Then Ace said the next logical thing that came to mind. "Then show me."

Klavier and Ema both knew what he meant by that, and while Klavier remained the perfect actor, Ema's face betrayed just a flicker of something Ace couldn't place. It flashed by too quickly for him to register it, something he was very annoyed with. No doubt it was akin to disgust, he thought, for Ema disliked Klavier.

Ema spoke. "Show you?"

"Yeah. That shouldn't be a problem, right? It's not like I'm asking for porn. Just a little gesture of lovers."

Klavier took Ema's hand.

"Ha ha, very funny, Klavier. You know what I mean."

"What _do_ you mean?" Ema questioned, with a fierce glare.

Trucy cut in. "You know what we mean!" she reiterated. "Kiss him!"

_**

* * *

**_

The seventh was Mark.

_**

* * *

**_

He separated himself from Trucy and Mark, since he was not to go to the crime scene, and found himself in a dark alley. Much to his surprise, three familiar people were in front of him, discussing something. Klavier Gavin, Ema Skye and Miles Edgeworth.

A ruse? A ploy? Was that what they were planning? That was unacceptable.

"Hold it!" he cried, just as Miles Edgeworth dismissed the two. Mark emerged from the shadows, cloaked in his own black, standing taller than the trio.

"…Great," Ema groaned.

"What is this? What do I see? A deception! How very foul of you, and _you_, Miles Edgeworth, to have conceived this monstrous plan. I may not have had the fortune to meet you in court, but I have heard fearsome tales of your competence."

"Mark…" Klavier sighed. "Just let this be. Don't tell Ace or Trucy."

"They would not believe you, no matter what you attempt," Mark said simply. "Although… this seems akin to a self-fulfilling prophecy," he muttered to himself.

"What was that?" Ema asked sharply.

"Nothing at all, mistress."

He could see the question marks popping over her head and barely restrained a smile. It really was worth the theatrics simply to see the reactions.

"Mark Ato, what Trucy and Ace—and perhaps you—are attempting is ill-timed. There is a trial tomorrow, of which vital evidence has been found tonight, and they insist on interfering. Investigation must not be hampered."

Mark ignored him. "Tch! What will you offer me for my silence?"

"Just keep quiet," Ema threatened. "I'm not enjoying this any more than… er…"

Klavier stepped in. "It is entertaining, ja? I know how you like games."

"True," Mark said thoughtfully. "How well you know me. But a player I am; not a mere bystander, you understand."

Edgeworth tapped his foot, and Ato smiled at that. Impatience.

"Look, Ato, you can try inform them, but I'm sure Mr Edgeworth will stop you while we go on ahead!"

Her faith in Miles Edgeworth was boundless. She did not think such a task could hamper Edgeworth's efficiency, let alone bother him. Mark cocked his head, wondering how he could use her obvious admiration for Miles Edgeworth. "…You may go on, for now. I shall lay dormant for a moment longer."

Casting an untrusting glance at Mark, Klavier hesitantly walked out of the alley. Ema soon followed.

"You cannot hold me here, Miles Edgeworth."

"And why not?" Edgeworth crossed his arms, then added, "…You remind me of Franziska."

"I know. But you cannot hold me here because you cannot outrun me. You have sustained a nasty injury to your left knee." The way he spoke was now perfunctory, and much less flowery.

Edgeworth narrowed his eyes.

"You have a slight limp. Very slight, but it is apparent. And at my age and height, even if you did not have such a handicap, I could escape you."

Miles shrugged. "Very perceptive of you. Of course, such an injury wouldn't hamper me too much, but you're also correct on the point that you are much younger, and perhaps faster than I."

"But I will not," Mark continued, completely disregarding Edgeworth. He resumed his usual manner. "I shall not glance upon the light of tomorrow. Justice is blind, after all. Regrettably, I shall not gift my eyes with the amusement for the same reason."

Miles didn't speak. "That's very convenient."

"I know." His speech was becoming more mechanical again, with much less caution in his diction. "I already know what is going to happen. And I'm never wrong."

The way he now spoke was the way he delivered verdicts. It was bare, but most of all, it was the truth.

"Then we part here," Edgeworth said.

Mark nodded. "Farewell."

He descended into the shadows.

* * *

The eighth was Ema.

_**

* * *

**_

She felt like a blasted stalker, following Gavin like this. It was more than a little creepy. But she couldn't help it. Something about his aura, his expression compelled her to follow. Because Ema thought there would be trouble.

Where was he going? She vaguely recognized this route, but it wasn't until he turned at Buckle Drive that she realized his destination. It couldn't be… the state prison? There was only one conclusion she could come to—well, two, now that she thought about it. He was going to visit someone. Kristoph or Daryan?

Ema knew for a fact he had already visited the both of them before, and that Kristoph was still an enigma. From the rumors, Daryan had laughed and told Klavier that a straight-out luxury life was boring. Danger was exhilarating, and a little more money would only aid him. That escapade provided both. Kristoph, on the other hand, seemed to have no motive for killing that mysterious traveler. Shadi… something…

"I can't very well go into the prison too. That would be too obvious," Ema muttered. "I should just leave him alone. Nothing's gonna happen anyway."

Still she followed.

_I guess it's my creepy obsession time of year again._

As she expected, he went into the prison. Ema waited outside for a while before headed in as well. No more qualms. She'd got this far, so she might as well go all the way.

Right?

No point in feeling like a creepy stalker. She crept—no, strode her way in, flashing here detective badge. The sleepy-looking guard admitted her with a brief nod, barely even glancing at her badge. Klavier was going to Kristoph's cell. Right. That was… Solitary Cell 13, if she wasn't wrong.

So Ema walked slowly to that cell, hoping Klavier hadn't decided to turn back and force her to make up an excuse, or had gone to visit Daryan after all. She didn't know which cell Crescend was in. But as she turned the corner, she glimpsed the telltale gold of his hair disappearing into the cell. That was good.

Ema quickened her pace, then stopped. What was she going to do when she got there? What was she even doing? _Being an idiot_. Well, she supposed she could eavesdrop on their conversation. Mentally, she cringed. _I must be really bored. _But then she remembered the two brothers were born in Germany—surely they would converse in the said language?

She could hear bickering, or what sounded like bickering, when she approached, but she couldn't tell if it were German or English. The sounds could have been the guttural nuances of the former, or an agitated growl that disguised the English.

Without thinking, Ema opened the cell door to enter, before realizing the stupidity of the action. But the sight that greeted her eyes was enough to wipe her mind clean of the thought, simply because another, more urgent one had invaded.

"Stop!"

_**

* * *

**_

The ninth was Klavier.

_**

* * *

**_

"**You are beginning to get tiresome, little brother**," Kristoph said in German.

"**Ja? Well, why don't you answer?**" Klavier shot back.

Kristoph drummed his fingers. "**It would upset you,**" he said truthfully.

"**And of course, you have always cared very much for my wellbeing,**" Klavier replied scathingly. "**I only want… the truth.**"

"**How often have I heard you say those idealistic words?**" Kristoph adjusted his glasses. "**I have killed, and I will kill again. There is no logic in these acts.**"

Klavier clenched his fists at both Kristoph's calmness as well as his casual remarks upon murder. "**If there is anything I have learnt, it is that people do stupid things. But there is always a reason.**"

"**There is madness. Am I not mad, Klavier?**"

"**No. Maybe. But you will always have a reason, even if it is that the yellow pixies told you to. But—I will not accept that kind of foolish answer!**"

"**I see. Well then, let us say it is because I enjoy the power of taking a life. Total control.**"

"**To that extent? Do not try to pull such ridiculous bluffs on me, Kristoph. I am not some naïve child!**"

"**Aren't you? Isn't it quite immature of you to stand there, panting and angry at my response? Isn't it ridiculous for you to stand aggravated at what you already knew you could not obtain?**"

_Do not try to distract me. _"**Is an answer really so hard, Kristoph?**" Klavier said after a moment of tense silence, as he attempted to fight down the boiling feeling in his stomach in vain. He gnashed his teeth as he waited for an answer.

"**I have given you an answer.**"

"**You have done no such thing. You have not given me a proper answer. Why Shadi Smith? Who was he to you?**"

"**He was a traveler. He was no one. He was nothing. I passed him in the hall, and a fancy came over me. A perfect crime. Could I do it? …Apparently not.**"

"**Stop it! Just tell me your motive! I—can't—understand,**" Klavier burst out, drawing out the last three words with considerable weight. He'd lost his cool, and, was going nowhere. He had long learned that with Kristoph, keeping calm was essential, but he… he just couldn't. Not when he was talking about taking a life like that. Klavier was Kristoph's _brother_. He was _family_. And he hadn't known squat about Kristoph in the end. He didn't understand the killer mentality.

"**I have told you. You have chosen not to listen. And I thought you embraced the truth?**"

_But it is not the truth. You have never told me the truth from the beginning. You will never tell me the truth unless I drag it out of you… and I cannot. I can't even try to reach into the darkness of your mind and pull at its strings, because they are too convoluted. I can't even attempt to wheedle it out of you, because I get too agitated and I lose control. And a lie as blatant as that, a lie that you know I recognize as a falsehood, a flimsy lie such as that—you are toying with me. You have always been toying with me, from the very beginning, but I cannot leave it alone, because such a lie enrages me. _

They engaged in some absurd staring contest, with a cool gaze from Kristoph, and a hard stare from Klavier, slowly morphing into a glare as he shook, waiting for an answer. Hoping for an answer. Knowing it would never come.

Kristoph sighed. "**Just go home, Klavier. There is nothing for you here. Stop being so foolish, and leave this alone. There is no more truth for you to mine if you do not wish to acknowledge it. I have told nothing but what you wished to hear—it is your own mindset that is preventing you from believing that I am simply an incorrigible man.**"

"**I know you are detestable,**" Klavier said rigidly.

"**Then leave. Will you turn away from the unfortunate truth? I have no morals, nor do I possess a conscience. I murdered. Is that so hard to accept?**"

Klavier didn't answer. _That isn't true. You had a reason! It isn't a question of accepting!_

"**Face the truth.**"

_But it is not the truth. You are lying. I am seeking fact, not shying away from it!_

"**Do not deny it.**"

_How can I accept a lie? This is not denial!_

"**Leave.**"

Klavier finally found his voice. "**I will not! Not until you give me the truth!**"

"**I have. You only have to face it.**"

Klavier wasn't about to leave, but he knew he had to, or he'd lose control and fast. So he kept his shivering fist in check, and stiffly turned, before it all came crashing down.

_Face the truth. _

Had he not decided to dedicate his life to finding the truth?

_Do not deny it._

Had he not always made it his code to always accept the truth, no matter how difficult it might be? How else could he have acknowledged his brother as a murderer?

_Leave._

"**No! You have been lying, and you will always be lying, but I will get the truth out of you—and I won't take no for an answer! Just… Just…**"

Kristoph watched on in mild amusement.

Losing control again. _I need to get out. _But he couldn't.

Klavier preferred verbal sparring to an actual physical dispute, and though he had thrown punches in his lifetime, he had never flung out a fist at an imprisoned convict. It was unthinkable. It was ridiculous.

To lose control was definitely the worst possible thing he could ever do, especially in front of Kristoph.

"Stop!"

A new voice, but not unfamiliar. Far from it.

But… _Scheisse_.

His breath caught as an unexpectedly strong hand grasped his arm, jerking him back abruptly, and he came back to his senses, body finally under the control of his mind.

Kristoph was still smiling.

Klavier straightened, and shook off the hand.

"And who may this be?" Kristoph enquired politely, gesturing to the figure next to him.

"That is—"

"Ema Skye, detective. And I'm going." She shot Klavier a look that said, _you too_.

Kristoph nodded. "Then I shall see you next time, Klavier. And perhaps you as well, Detective Skye?"

But she was already out of the cell, dragging Klavier with her. "What the _hell_ were you thinking, Gavin?"

"…I wasn't."

"I could see that."

"…And why were _you _here?"

"I… I was visiting someone, then I heard shouts, so I went to investigate."

"Really. Who?"

"Stop trying to change the subject," Ema said, and Klavier smiled. She was the one changing the subject, after all. "It's a good thing I was here, anyway. You would've done something _really _stupid."

"Ja… Danke."

They walked in silence.

"Ach, fräulein detective! You have bruised me!"

Ema looked at his slightly purpled arm with little interest. "Good," she sniffed.

"I had no idea you were that strong."

"I _am_ a detective. Or perhaps you're just weak?"

"Ha ha. As witty as always, ja?"

"Hmph."

Right on cue, Klavier's phone began to vibrate and he flipped it open, wondering if it were Herr Forehead. "Ja?"

A distinctly German voice spoke. "Back to the crime scene. Now. A new set of clues have been found and you are required. Goodbye."

There was a click. Moments later, Ema's phone rang shrilly. It seemed a similar exchange was happening.

"That was Franziska von Karma, I presume. Let us go," Klavier said. "It looks as though we have a long night ahead of us."

Ema didn't miss the sly smile on his lips, and chose to resolutely ignore the innuendo. "More to do," she moaned. "It's a bit late for new evidence to be showing up."

"Better late than never." He fell into thoughtful silence. "Ace will know about this."

"Just my—our luck. And if he knows about it, Ato and Trucy will know about it."

"As a judge, Mark never looks over evidence until the day of the trial. He will not set foot into the crime scene."

They took the short cut, through the little alley that ran across Harewood Drive and Benning Road.

"Mr Edgeworth?" Ema said incredulously.

Klavier squinted through the black, and made out a white cravat. That was Miles Edgeworth, no question. He hadn't seen them yet, and as they approached him, he had already left. They emerged into the sunlight, a wide stretch of road. The crime scene was right ahead. Klavier noticed Franziska's and Edgeworth's cars parked in front of it. Not exactly a good sign.

Then Miles appeared again, and went up to them. "Please, go back into the alley. I must speak with the two of you."

Confused, they obeyed. Klavier thought he had an inkling of what was going to happen. Then Edgeworth spoke.

"Listen. Franziska is going to attempt some kind of manipulation."

_**

* * *

**_

The tenth was Apollo.

_**

* * *

**_

He waited, growing uneasier with each passing minute. Brushing his twin prongs with a few gentle fingers for the umpteenth time, Apollo fixed an intense gaze on the bathroom door. A few moments later, as if answering his unyielding stare, it opened. The corners of his lips pulled up. No one escaped The Stare.

But it wasn't the two cousins who came out—it was a woman with sweeping black hair and boy, was she beautiful. Apollo nearly slapped himself when his eyes wandered to, um, her female assets, and quickly snapped his gawk up to her pleasant face. "H-hullo, ma'am," he stuttered, feeling his cheeks color.

She smiled at him. "Hello."

"D-did you see anyone else in there? I'm w-waiting for some people out here, but they haven't come out in a while." Apollo hoped they were still in there, because he had been working up the non-existent courage to barge in and check. He didn't want to have to ask this lady to go in and ask them to come out, though.

"Oh yes," she replied, nodding. "There was a teenager in there waiting for someone." The woman thought for a moment. "Long brown hair with a twist on the side."

That would be Pearl, probably waiting for Maya. "R-right. Thanks!"

The woman departed, and it was only then that Apollo noticed the odd purple outfit she was wearing. From where he was standing, he could see a deep purple jacket-thing, with a lighter skirt. There was a clatter as Apollo realized that the woman also wore old-fashioned looking clogs. But then she turned the corner, and he caught a glimpse of a thick violet ribbon and a little of the front view—and it looked very familiar. Piecing together what he had seen of her clothes, he suddenly recalled Maya Fey. An odd ensemble in shades of purple… But that _couldn't have been _Maya! The woman was slightly taller, had a more shapely body, fuller lips, and she didn't trip over her clogs every ten steps or so. And yet…

Something nagged at his mind. Something Mr Wright had told him… but he couldn't quite remember. All he recalled was that she came from a village called Kurain, and they specialized in something weird. Pearl had also called Maya a 'Mystic'. What did that title mean? Some kind of shaman?

"Ah! Spirit medium!"

Apollo didn't know much about the rules of spirit channeling, but it seemed that it allowed them to… changed appearance? _But she can't just go around summoning random spirits!_ Well, chances were it wasn't some 'random spirit' if that ghost went on to assert that the cousins—or at least Pearl—were still in the bathroom. But why would she leave Pearl in the bathroom like that? Unless… well, Apollo knew Pearl could channel spirits too, so maybe she'd go out channeled as well, though in that case, they should have come out together, channeling different spirits. Of course, the more likely explanation was that they found a better route out of the bathroom, away from Apollo, and only Pearl could use it, for some reason of another, or Maya (and not Pearl) needed to walk past him. If it were the latter, he hadn't the vaguest idea why she'd need to do that—unless…

He groped his pockets hurriedly. As he half-expected, his phone was missing. _Looks like Trucy isn't the only pickpocket around._

Either way, he had to chase after Maya, which he quickly proceeded to do. But now that he thought about it, Maya could've stolen his phone before he had even allowed them into the bathroom.

Pounding his feet on the floor, Apollo was keenly aware that he wasn't quite as fit as he should be, but surely someone with those loose-fitting clogs couldn't outrun him, especially with the loud clatters of it against the floor. Maya should have known that… And perhaps she did. Perhaps she was simply hiding.

He stopped in his tracks. He couldn't do anything about it now, having lost the two of them, with no way to contact either Prosecutor Gavin or Ema. He didn't even know their hand phone numbers by memory, so a payphone route was out. But he figured it was the end of their workday, so Trucy or anyone she had befriended wouldn't do something.

The end of their _work_day…

No, Trucy can't know where Prosecutor Gavin lives. Oh wait, he's a world-famous rock star, and she has two of his band members with her. But what about Ema? No doubt Mark Ato could dig up her files, if they were really desperate. But surely they would wait till tomorrow. So Apollo rounded the corner to the Wright Anything Agency, hoping to find Trucy there, only to find Mr Wright alone at his table.

He waved a hand at Apollo. "Trucy's still out. It's not that late, though, so I'm not particularly worried."

"…Oh. If you see her, keep her here. I'm going out to find her. She's befriended a couple of strangers and run off. Any clue where she is?"

"No idea," Phoenix said, totally unconcerned by the news. "Be home before eight."

"Yes, mom," Apollo said sarcastically, under his breath. Phoenix must not have heard, for he merely uncorked a bottle of grape juice and chugged it down.

So where was Trucy? With Lerano and Ato, no doubt. Even if they weren't planning anything, he still needed to bring her home, and maybe catch them setting a trap or something. Two cars sped past him, a red one and a black one, competing against each other rather dangerously. He spotted a flash of bright blue hair in the latter, and stopped short. Could it be…? He had heard Miles Edgeworth drove a red sports car, and it stood to reason that he'd be competing with Franziska, didn't it? They used to belong to the von Karma household, and the infamous Manfred would have instilled a competitive streak in each of them.

_I wonder where they're headed to. _

He walked aimlessly for a while, but then heard Trucy's voice in the distance. Apollo started to speed up, jogging at first, then shifted to a run.

"You know what we mean! Kiss him!"

_What._

_What._

_What is Trucy trying to pull_ now_?_

Apollo sprinted into the park, not even taking notice of Maya and Pearl, who were gaping at the gate. Then he stopped, because Klavier and Ema were actually facing each other and the distance between their… lips… was narrowing.

"_Guilty Love! I took you by your word, and jealousy—_" A catchy tune rose in the air, and Klavier froze. Apollo saw relief rise in their eyes and Klavier straightened and put the phone to his ear.

"Ja?"

Apparently, there was no reply, for he put it back down. Klavier looked back down on his phone. "It seems caller ID has failed me. I do not know this number." But judging by Ema's expression, it could have been an angel from heaven.

"Archer Lerano!"

Franziska von Karma suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Apollo took the opportunity to get to the gang as well, trying not to look at her whip. "Er, what just happened?"

But Franziska spoke before anyone could answer Apollo. "Archer Lerano," she repeated. "Get out of here. And take Trucy Wright with you!"

"What? No! I told you, I'm the defense attorney—"

"—Who is _not _allowed to investigate. And if you have left any items here, rest assured, you will see them in the trial tomorrow as some very unfortunate evidence. Besides, the true prosecutor of the case is here now. And, fool though he is, he will not permit you to remain any longer!" She emphasized her command with a crack of her whip.

They looked at Klavier, who must have seen this as a golden opportunity. Apollo certainly did. "Ah, ja. That is correct."

Trucy and Lerano looked simply furious. "So was it you who called Klavier? Meddling!" Ace asserted, irritated. _He must have some kind of grudge against Franziska von Karma_, Apollo thought.

"As rude as always, since those two _perfect_ trials I prosecuted against you," Franziska taunted. _Ah, that'll be it. She probably bested him in some trials._ "Go now, then. You are not permitted to be here. And were you not listening? Klavier Gavin had no idea whose phone number it was. It could not be me who called him, fool!"

Lerano stormed off, with Trucy darkly following behind. She appeared not to have spotted Apollo. Should he simply bring her home? But he knew for a fact that Maya and Pearl were here too, and they were planning something. Trucy could get home by herself. "So… what _did_ happen?" he asked.

"Nothing happened," Klavier said.

"You… Ema… er…"

Franziska spoke this time. "A manipulation of Lerano's, I gather. I could not allow it, in any case," she added, in a lower tone, then muttered something about winning.

"So _was_ it your phone call?"

"No."

Maya and Pearl finally caught up. "We heard everything! You're dating Ema, right?"

Apollo was dumbstruck, and Franziska did a double take.

Klavier and Ema stared at each other "Er, ja…? Ja. It is a little complicated."

With this, Apollo could gather that it was a sort of ruse to ward off the combined forces of Lerano, Trucy, Ato, Maya, Pearl, and possibly Franziska. "Right," he said, a little reassured that the world had not turned on its head.

"How can it be complicated if you're dating?" Pearl demanded.

"Right, it's not!" Ema unexpectedly said. "We're… dating."

Apollo gave Klavier a look, and Klavier appeared to have grasped his meaning that he could banish Maya and Pearl. "This is no place for civilians. I must request that the two of you leave."

Ah, the power of the law. _And it's never on my side_, Apollo added, a little bitterly. At least this time he was on Prosecutor Gavin's side.

Grudgingly, Maya and Pearl left.

"And you, Prosecutor von Karma. I am the prosecutor in charge, so…"

Franziska von Karma whipped him. "Foolish fool! I have no more business here, and will leave regardless."

Klavier rubbed his stinging wounds as she left. "Thank you, Herr Forehead."

"Well, it's not like I did anything," Apollo said.

"At least you aren't ganging up on us."

"That's something, I suppose," Apollo allowed generously. "But you know, I can sorta see their point."

Ema turned sour immediately. "Their point? They have no point!"

"Well," Apollo mused slowly. "You guys kinda serve as a foil for each other, and Trucy once told me you look good together. And I'm surprised Prosecutor Gavin hasn't docked your pay for all the insults you've tossed at him, along with those Snackoos, never mind if he _is_ a lax prosecutor. He even allows you to use your forensics equipment, even if you're a detective. But, who am I to say?" Apollo shrugged. "It's not like you're bad-tempered _all_ the time, anyway. In fact, you can be pretty nice if you have some forensic work to do. Still, Trucy and the others were _way_ over the line."

There was something about that night that made Ema and Klavier feel slightly different about each other.

_**

* * *

**_

The End. Not quite.

_**

* * *

**_

When something smells, it's the Butz. This time too. Larry pocketed his phone with the sense of a job well done. Franny had kind of hired him to help her with some kind of ploy to do with that rock star and a detective. She'd given him five bucks for just a phone call!

As he turned, he literally bumped into Maya Fey. "Oh, hey Maya!" Beside and behind her were three other people. Pearl Fey, this guy from the Gavinners, and Trucy Wright, the cute girl Nick had adopted. "Woah, what's happening?"

"Nothing much," Pearl sighed. "Just that we've been kicked out."

Larry was about to ask again, when Franny actually appeared. He opened his mouth to exclaim, but—

CRACK!

So he lay down a little, whimpering and weeping, so he didn't notice Edgeworth coming over as well and chiding Franziska, nor the shadow on the opposite side of the road that was Mark Ato.

Larry didn't even notice the two figures that emerged from the park, or the collective but silent gasp that ran round the watching crowd. He didn't see one lean towards the other with an enticing smile, or that both turned a delicate shade of red. He didn't see the moment their lips met.

But everyone else did, and there was no end to the exchanging of surprised glances, except for Mark Ato who smiled to himself.

And Ema didn't slap him when the kiss ended, and that, as Klavier would say later, was the most magical thing that happened that evening.

_The End._

A/N This chapter was looong. It feels like I've stuffed all the plot into this last chapter. Kinda true, but not really. All the extra stuff was me procrastinating writing the real plan, because I took _forever_ to come up with it, which was the main reason for the delay for this chapter… So, what d'you think of Mark? I fleshed out his character now. Hope it gave the impression I wanted. I wrote all the different 'character sections' in different orders, following the story and how it wanted to be laid out. Basically, I was improvising the entire way I was writing this. That's why it's so predictable. So, er, I rushed this, so I didn't even read through to edit it! I hope any elementary mistakes were avoided. I had to finish it by tonight, since I'm leaving my precious computer for a bit.

This is the last chapter. So all you readers out there—the regulars, the _lurkers_ (I know you're there), the first-timers—REVIEW! And yes, I used CAPS to emphasize. Remember how I said I was leaving a few lines back? Well, when I get back to the computer, _make sure I get loads of reviews waiting in my email!_


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